Roll of Thunder
by psycho pixie
Summary: SxG. Rated for some slashy stuff, some peril, and Gauron's dirty, dirty mouth.
1. A Suspicion

_Hi! Am trying my hand at slash again, so I'll make this perfectly clear: IF YOU DON'T LIKE SLASH, LEAVE NOW. It's a waste of your time and mine; you don't need to flame it and I don't need to read it. I altered timelines slightly; I manipulated characters; I used vague plot points and warped them._

_But that's fanfiction in a nutshell, isn't it?_

_If you don't like m/m, turn around now and I'll never be the wiser. I'm just having fun. You should, too. If this story isn't fun for you, go find one that is. It's a free country._

_Read away, if you're open-minded!_

__

It sounded fishy to me. That a 'new terrorist organization' would take interest in the Whispered, no more than six months after Gauron's death. To Miss Kaname's great fortune, I stayed on at her high school even after Gauron died, so I was close at hand when the air started growing thick with tension.

No one since Gauron had expressed any desire to study the Whispered - no one _but_ Gauron.

The minute I heard from Kalenin that Kaname might be in danger, I knew. I _knew_.

There was no way of proving it, of course. I had no way of alerting anyone of importance, I had no hard evidence to justify my suspicions. But I told Kalenin on an open line, as carefully as I could, from our base in Tokyo, with Melissa and Kurz sitting right in the same room.

"Commander," I began, my voice tight. He was checking in on us for the week, giving us our orders, checking our progress. And that was the time to tell him. "I. About the Whispered."

"Yes, sergeant?" He was completely calm.

"You said it was a terrorist cell that was after the Whispered," I pressed. "Do you have any information on how they even know the Whispered exist, or who's heading them?"

"We don't have those answers, Mr. Sagara, but I do know that we've had no reports of anything beyond this group."

"Sir, I just. I have a bad feeling, that perhaps this is bigger than we give it credit for."

"We've had no real disturbances from this group yet," he assured me. "Only intelligence reports. They've made no move to harm any of the Whispered."

"Yet."

"Yet," he agreed. "But I assure you Miss Chidori's name has not been mentioned in any of these reports. As far as I know, she's as safe as possible, with you guarding her."

"But terrorists have gotten their hands on her before, while I was guarding her."

"Terrorist forces with exceptional assistance. Were it not for the leadership, they stood little chance of knowing exactly how and when you could be separated from Miss Chidori."

"And if they have such leadership again?"

I saw Kurz sit up, out of the corner of my eye, and take a keen interest.

"That's not possible, Sergeant Sagara. Unless you've got something _else_ I ought to know."

Fire shot up my cheeks. "No, sir. But I have a feeling, is all. I don't think - I mean. He never - salvage crews never found a. He wouldn't." I took a deep breath. "Commander, it can't be that easy. It simply isn't _possible_. We've taken him for dead three times and been badly mistaken. Civilian and military lives have been lost due to our previous assumptions, and I am not willing to simply assume that he's dead just because -"

"Venom was completely incinerated upon detonation, sergeant," Kalenin informed me. "It's physically impossible for him to have survived the explosion. Even if he _did_ somehow survive the blast itself, he would have been too badly injured to survive at sea with no medical aid. Not to mention drifting aimlessly in a tropical storm for days on end," he added.

I nodded, even though he couldn't see. "Yes, sir."

"Although I can understand your concern, sergeant. I know as well as anyone that he was never one to be underestimated, and I appreciate the mention, because it is a legitimate worry. But we'll know before anyone if he's alive, and I will personally make sure that you are the first to know, as you or Miss Chidori will no doubt be in his line of fire."

My chest grew tight. His tone had changed - at first, he'd been casually dismissing the fact that Gauron might actually still be alive, but it was turning to suspicion. He was considering it, _considering_ the fact that every time we'd taken him for dead, he wasn't. Considering the fact that we had no way of ever really being sure he was dead, without a body and a cremation and an urn full of ashes that could be disposed of as far away from me as possible.

Fear. It wasn't a feeling I was used to.

And those words, those goddamn words, _his_ words, they kept coming back to me. The words he couldn't possibly have meant.

"Sergeant, when you report back to the Tuatha de Daanan, I'll discuss this at length with you. But for right now, your assignment is to keep a close eye on Miss Chidori, and you can't very well do that if you're talking to me," Kalenin sighed. "When you're in a secure location... we'll talk. Until then, you know your orders."

"Yes, Commander." I was being dismissed. But he had to -

"We'll see what information we can get on these terrorists, and I'll inform you of what we find. Good day, Sergeant Sagara."

I was shaking. Even the _idea_ that he was still alive, the realization that someone else was now worried about it - if nothing else had any effect on me...

Kurz's face was thoughtful. "Sousuke, dude. Chill out. He's dead. You saw to it yourself."

I nodded stiffly. "We've thought he was dead before. I've thought I killed him at least twice."

"But he blew up," Melissa put in, taking a swig of beer that nearly emptied the can. "Nobody could survive that."

I shook my head. "If anyone could... he could."

A shadow crossed Kurz's face, a thoughtful one. A shadow that meant his brain was working on over-drive. "Well if he's alive, we'll just kill him again." And then a flinch. "How many times do we have to kill that guy?"

The knot in my stomach said, _at least one more time_.

**Kaname**

Like Sousuke isn't moody enough on a good day, now he was toting that damn gun around _again_ and acting even _moodier_. Mr. Diligent wasn't studying for tests, and I swear he had bags under his eyes suddenly. And I mean, he's _always_ in sharp condition. He's never under the weather. But the first week back at school, he looked downright dead.

Actually... he looked suspiciously hung over, but he doesn't drink. Period. So it wasn't humanly possible.

I gave him my traditional scowl, to mask the fact that I noticed. "Well aren't _you_ hung over," I muttered, as I came out of my building to find him leaning against the doorframe. He really. When he did that, he just...

Anyways. Sousuke looking dashing ISN'T the point.

He didn't answer me, which made me glance up and drop the scowl. "Hey. Are you okay? I mean... you didn't even feed me some stupid excuse or anything."

He didn't beat around the bush. "You may be in danger."

"When am I not?"

"_Real_ danger."

"See: last response."

"There's a terrorist cell on the prowl for the Whispered. They want the technology stored in your mind."

"Just like everyone else. How can it be worse than last time?"

"It can't be," he admitted. "But we have reason to believe it could be just as bad."

"But that guy is dead, Sousuke," I reminded him. "He's kind of the reason it was so bad in the first place."

He hesitated a moment before answering, waiting instead till we'd crossed the street. "He could be dead," he agreed. "But you'll remember that we've taken him for dead before, Miss Chidori."

"You can call me Kaname when it's just us," I reminded him.

A nod. "Very well, Miss Kaname."

I sighed - it was _some_ progress, at least. "But Souske... he made his AS self-destruct. He had no way of possibly surviving. No one could live through that."

And then a break from the monotonous, so-military Sousuke I knew. "The more I hear people say he can't have survived, Miss Chidori, the more I think it's entirely possible."

Let's get some things straight on Mr. I'm-a-moody-military-jerk real fast. Souske likes to think he's completely unreadable. He also likes to think that if it's personal, it doesn't exist.

NOT true, on either count.

For one thing, I know for a fact that on some level, he does or did or might or could someday possibly have a thing for me. I mean, I'm not saying he wants me or anything. I'm just saying, he maybe doesn't always just see me as just another assignment. And I know nothing will probably happen or anything, it just makes me feel. You know. Girly and giddy and completely not above rubbing it in Tessa's face.

But I don't.

Also. He thinks I don't know things about his past. Or - suspect things, because I can't know until Sousuke tells me, and that's not happening anytime soon. He's too busy pretending like it's not real.

Everyone on the de Daanan heard Gauron say that thing to him. Everyone heard Sousuke completely snap. I mean, he cursed. He doesn't swear casually, the way Kurz and Melissa do. But he went absolutely ping.

So. It doesn't take a whole lot to know that Souske at least knew him before I met him. And of course they knew each other. All good guys know villains. It's how interesting lives go. You know all your enemies, and all.

But. I'm not stupid. I'm the junior class representative, for crying out loud. I didn't get there by being an _idiot_.

Really. Who do you people TAKE me for??

Anyways, ignoring the blatant underestimation. I don't actually know what it was between them, but. I know what he said really kicked Sousuke in the balls. If he hadn't thought he meant it, I don't think it would have bothered him. And he wouldn't have thought he meant it if he didn't have reason to think he meant it. And he wouldn't have reason to think he meant it if there wasn't something going on beneath the surface.

I'm not saying anything specific. I'm just speculating, and making it clear to all of you who don't pay attention to me that I'M NOT STUPID.

So. With that said.

I kicked an empty beer can as we walked. "Then you can just kill him again."

"When has it ever been that easy?" he sulked.

I glanced over at him. "You really, really think he's alive, don't you?" I asked thoughtfully.

"The _point_, Miss Chidori, is that I don't know. And I can't prepare for an enemy if I'm in the dark."

I bit my lip. "Well. I mean, if he is still alive and all, what do you think he wants?"

"I think he wants the contents of your head split between a computer and a jar, and I think he wants to kill me," he said, in a tone I had never, EVER heard Sousuke take. "And no doubt when that's out of the way, he'll take the knowledge he's obtained from you to make weapons that Mithril never even DREAMED of making, and destroy Mithril before they can do anything to him. But hopefully, should it come to that, neither of us will be alive to see it."

"Okay, you have GOT to take a chill pill," I snapped. "Snap OUT, of it, Sousuke! Yeah, so bad things will happen - IF HE'S ALIVE. And I really don't think he is."

"Salvage crews never found a body with the wreckage of Venom," he said quietly. "The only guarantee we'll ever have is a body, and _we don't have that_."

I sighed. "Okay, so your personal villain happened to be pretty unkillable once upon a time. But no one lives forever, Sousuke. Everyone punches out eventually - even Lex Luthor died."

His face was blank. "Lex... what?"

"Oh, TELL me you know who Superman is!" I wailed.

"I'm sorry, but I can't do that."

I groaned and kicked the beer can harder. "Lex Luthor was Superman's arch-enemy, Sousuke. I mean... well, okay, so Superman had a lot of arch-enemies, but you kinda do, too. Okay, you know Sherlock Holmes, though. Right?"

"Of course I do. Not personally, of course, but I _have_ read -"

"Okay, shut up. Professor Moriarty was Sherlock Holmes' sworn nemesis, who he could never outsmart, but HE died too."

"Nearly taking Holmes -"

"Again, shut up. My POINT, Sherlock, is that just because you haven't been able to defeat Gauron in the past, doesn't mean it's impossible. Doesn't mean it's never gonna happen. And who knows? Maybe it DID happen. You're not a little kid anymore, Sousuke. I don't know what happened with him before, to make you all jumpy about him, but he was only human."

If you can believe it, he actually looked like he was going to _argue_ with me.

But he didn't.

I pushed on, a little more carefully now. "And if you ever. Y' know, feel like telling me what did go on, I'm here. I mean... so yeah, you're kinda weird, and you cause more problems than you solve, and I think you like embarrassing the hell out of me. But you know..." I swallowed, a little shy suddenly. "I'm only alive because you like getting into trouble. You've saved my life more times than I can count, and... I don't really know how to say thanks, or how to pay you back."

His voice was muted when he answered. "I know that I cause you a lot of trouble, but... I'm sorry. And thank you. I guess I'm just not used to people wanting to hear my problems. And - maybe someday you will," he added.

That didn't sound very promising.


	2. A Proposition

_My reviewers rock.  I think it takes writing in a fandom like this to make me appreciate you guys!_

It was an old American movie on TV that night. Typical overdone action, and of _course_ the explosions were unbelievably huge and loud and perfectly done.

And of COURSE Sousuke was hopping mad over it.

"You know," I remarked, "it's America. Maybe they do things differently."

"But –"

"Nope."

"Miss Chidori, it's absolutely –"

"Theatrical?"

He blinked. "Pardon?"

"It's absolutely theatrical," I offered.

He scowled at the screen. "I don't understand how no one has a _problem _with things like this," he muttered. "It's utterly and completely disastrous. If it had been a _real _military operation –"

"It's not a real military operation," I reminded him. "It's a MOVIE."

"And with good reason," he grumbled. "It's completely unbelievable."

"So how about you just sit and laugh at how utterly goofy it is?" I suggested.

The idea didn't seem to thrill him. "Sousuke... really. Just shut up and watch the movie, would you?"

He muttered something, probably about the poor thought put into the movie and how embarrassed he was by even subjecting himself to it. But he did shut up.

I had two more cents worth to throw in, however. "The damn movie isn't about the special affects or the realism anyways," I added. "It's about the _plot_, you ninny. The point isn't how real the action is. It's about how the movie ends."

He glanced at me. "I suppose I understand," he said thoughtfully.

And that was that.

I sighed and kicked my shoes off. "Sousuke... you're allowed to stay here, I guess. I mean, I have a guest bedroom. You don't have to go back to your apartment... it's pretty late."

He shook his head. "I'm sorry, but I can't do that."

"Look, you leave here in the middle of the night every night, and you end up right back at my doorstep every morning before school... I'm not trying to _make _you. But it's almost four. You'll just be back here at seven anyways for school."

"I really can't. I have to send word back to Lieutenant Commander Kalenin when I arrive back at my station, and it's vital that I send it when I return. My superiors at Mithril... not Kalenin, or captain Testarossa, but the mainland division of Mithril... they feel that I'm wasting my efforts here," he admitted. "Ever since Arbalest programmed the LAMDA driver to respond specifically to me... it's complicated. I'm probably boring you."

I shook my head. "Of course not – I mean, I'm just glad you're talking to me, you know? You can keep going, if you want."

Sousuke nodded, a little hesitantly. "Well my AS – Arbalest – the LAMDA driver has adjusted so that only I can use it now. And... I wasn't the original recipient of that particular AS, so Mithril is already unhappy with the captain for allowing me to use it, when it was still an experimental weapon. And we know so little about what the LAMDA driver is capable of, even now. We don't know how or why it can do the things it does..."

"And they want to take you somewhere so that they can learn more about it," I finished softly.

"It's. The LAMDA driver is just too –"He huffed with frustration. "It's too unpredictable. When I couldn't start it, when I _needed_ it – Melissa was almost killed. There's no specific reason that it didn't work. I just. It shouldn't be a weapon so heavily relied upon when it can't even be counted on to work, and I can understand why they want to replace me as your guardian."

"Yeah, but..."

"And the more time I spend with you on a social basis," he continued, "the more they worry about you becoming a liability than simply an assignment. They worry that I'll become attached to you and possibly lose focus during battle again, which I can't afford."

"But you're doing your job," I argued. "I mean, you're supposed to protect me, right? Isn't that what you're doing now? How do they know that I'm not in some kind of danger, right now? Which, technically, I _am_, since I'm one of the Whispered or whatever, and there's a bunch of other guys after me now. So if they have a problem with it, tell them you're just protecting me," I said flippantly.

His look was Not Amused. "I can't say that to a superior officer, even if it was Melissa."

I rolled my eyes. "Well duh. I'm just saying that they shouldn't whine, if you're doing what you're supposed to be doing. Plus, what if it's really that Gauron guy after me again? I mean, I don't think anyone else could protect me from him. And unless they want to sacrifice my brain to him so that they can play with their Black Technology, then I don't see how they can send you somewhere else."

His face, sullen already, fell even more. "If Gauron is still alive, then it's going to take far more than me to protect you from him. He's already gotten the better of me... four times, I think. If he's alive..."

"But we're not thinking about that," I cut him off. "All I'm saying here is... you DON'T HAVE to walk all the way back to your apartment."

Sousuke's face was adorably blank for a second. "I... oh. Miss Chidori, I really can't."

I couldn't help the pout. Honestly. "All right, fine."

But he didn't make a big deal of moving from his spot on my couch.

We didn't say anything for a few minutes, and neither of us moved. So I figured, it couldn't hurt to _ask_. I was just curious.

And questions never hurt anyone... right? Because... okay, so maybe it wasn't the _brightest _thing for me to ask him. Maybe I have my dumb moments. But I did it anyways.

"Hey... um, Sousuke?" I began hesitantly. "Why did Gauron call you Kashyyn?"

His face was no longer adorable. "_What_?"

"I was just... okay, I was just wondering about it, you don't have to answer," I said quickly. "It was a stupid question, never mind."

Now he looked suspicious. "Why were you even wondering?"

"Um. Because no one else called you that," I said lamely. "And. Um. He never actually called you by your name. Unless – I mean, that _isn't_ your name, right?"

Sousuke looked away. "No. It's not my name. You don't speak any other languages?"

I shook my head. "Nope."

"It's derived from a word in the Helmajistani native language," he said shortly. "I suppose it's the equivalent of a nickname."

"Oh," I said thoughtfully. "So... what's it mean?"

"It doesn't mean anything," he replied shortly. "It doesn't translate into another language."

But I didn't believe him.

That was when he stood up, straightening his clothes stiffly. "I should be going," he muttered.

I put my forehead in my palm. "Look, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked... I wasn't trying to piss you off or anything."

He shook his head. "I'm not offended."

"Can we just forget I ever asked?"

"Consider it forgotten."

I swallowed. "So I guess I'll see you in the morning?"

"Of course. And don't forget we have an algebra test in the morning."

"SHIT!"

"...I'll be loaning you my notes in the morning, then."

I groaned. "No. I've got my own notes. Gah... I'll just study through the first hour tomorrow."

A nod as I opened the door for him. "'Night, Sousuke," I told him, letting a yawn peek through.

Sousuke nodded again. "Before I go... it was inappropriate of me to snap at you. And it was also slightly inaccurate to tell you that... _that _name didn't translate. Depending on how it's pronounced, one of the loosest things it means is 'little one,'" he muttered, looking away from me.

I blinked. "Um. Oh. That's a kind of..." _don't say it, you brat, don't SAY it!_

"I was eight when I first met him," he explained feebly. "I suppose by all rights I _was _little."

"What about the other pronunciations?"

His voice hardened as he turned away from me. "I don't understand."

"What do the others mean?"

"Nothing."

And this time, _nothing_ was what he was going to say about it.

Well... that answered like three or four questions.

**Sousuke**

By her attitude, I suspected that Miss Chidori had failed her test: for the past several weeks, her temper had been carefully checked, and her explosions had been few. But failing a test apparently set her back a bit. Her trigger that particular morning was when she came out of the girls' bathroom to find me lounging against the wall, waiting for her. Takuma had given me enough reason to decide that even bathrooms weren't safe, and so I made a habit of rather blatantly waiting for her. Should anyone suspicious pass by with the knowledge she was in the restroom, it would be clear to them that she wasn't unguarded.

But I suppose I scared her... or surprised her, as she came storming out.

"DAMMIT, SOUSUKE!" she exploded. "GIVE ME SOME _WARNING _NEXT TIME, WOULD YOU! Jeez! And don't look so damn smug about that stupid-ass test, you moody military jerk, I didn't have TIME to study for it because I have a LIFE!"

"I never said –"

"Can it," she snapped. "And _God_, could you be more discreet about STALKING me? Honestly, Sousuke, if you're trying to do that whole mysterious bodyguard thing... YOU'RE NOT DOING IT VERY WELL!"

"If you wouldn't –"

"If I wouldn't WHAT?! Be on hit lists? Be wanted by weird guys who hijack planes? Well if you INSIST –"

"I was going to say if you wouldn't _yell _–"

She whacked me with a folded newspaper, which was surprisingly painful. "I'll yell if I want to!"

"Of course, Miss Chidori."

"Oh, so that's it? A 'Yes, Miss Chidori,' and that's the end of it?" she demanded. "You're not even going to argue?"

"I happen to agree with you."

"What's there to agree with?" she wailed.

I paused. That was actually a good question.

I don't normally dream. But after school that day, before I was supposed to meet Kaname at her house for another study session, I did fall asleep. And I dreamed.

The images fled my mind upon waking, but I felt the after-effects. My body was trembling, I was drenched in sweat, and the room felt like it was a thousand degrees. The only remnant of the dream was that name – _his _name, for me. _Kashyyn._

I could feel my own heart pounding – something had snapped me from a fitful sleep. The door.

I glanced at the clock... _nine_. Dammit. I was supposed to meet Miss Chidori at eight. She was probably furious with me. Kurz knew I was supposed to be there, and he hadn't even –

_The door_.

It was probably Miss Chidori, I realized with a cringe. I was nowhere near presentable, although on some base level I didn't care.

"Kurz!" I called irritably.

"...Yo?"

"The _door,_ if you would," I snapped.

"I'm busy!" he hollered back. "Hey, Melissa!"

And then from the bathroom, where steam was pouring from under the door, an indication that she was in the tub. "Fuck you, Webber!"

"Sousuke, dude, just get the door! Who is it?"

"I don't _know,_ because no one has answered it."

"So answer it."

I sighed and pulled my dog tags from my undershirt, standing up and striding to the door. Some form of apology was already coming to mind, some petty reason why I didn't make dinner – something that wouldn't end up a hazard to my health. I could still remember the feeling of home base coming in contact with my head, and it wasn't something I looked forward to feeling again.

"Dude, don't bother, I'm closer," Kurz sighed. "Christ, you're difficult."

I sat back down and picked up my pistol, which needed to be polished. "Has Miss Chidori called?" I asked.

I heard him pop a few bones. "Nah, why?"

"I was supposed to meet her for dinner, and I overslept. Which reminds me, why didn't you wake me up? You knew I had plans."

"'Cause, asshole, you haven't slept. I was just glad to see you unconscious, okay? Do you think it's her at the door?"

"It's possible."

The door swung open, and I heard Kurz suck in a breath. Soft words were exchanged, and I couldn't hear them, but I could tell that it wasn't Miss Chidori at the door. The voice was too low to be female, and I leaned forward to try and catch a few words.

"Uh. Sousuke?"

His tone made me sit up. "Yes?"

"It. The door's for you."

My gun was in my hand immediately, and I moved to get a better glance at the figure in the door. But he'd opened the door and left it at an angle that blocked my view, so I kept my gun trained on where I knew the person was standing.

But I could see Kurz's face, and I could see how wide and shocked his eyes were. I would probably need the gun.

"Kurz, move out of my way," I said quietly.

"You don't need the gun," he answered, just as quietly, as I slipped into the doorway.

My hands shook on the gun as my eyes met the stranger's.

A smirk that wasn't dulled by the injuries I was noticing – and there were a lot. In fact, when my eyes fell to the ground at his feet, I could see blood soaked all the way down his clothes and pooling on the floor. I might not need the gun; he was going to bleed to death in the doorway.

But his voice made me realize that I shouldn't set down the gun, because he was absolutely lethal until he was dead.

"I've got a business proposition, Kashyyn."


	3. A Discussion

_To the faithful reviewers Robyn, Emz, and Elyse – who is editing the stuff I don't catch, lol! I fess up to not editing this story (in content, grammar, and spelling) as well as my others, so... my bad! Thanks for catching the stuff I miss! And the rest of you, you rock my socks off._

"One good reason," I snarled softly, gun leveled at his nose. Hard experience had already shown me that a bullet to the head would be futile, and I didn't know many people with titanium plates in their noses . "Give me _one good reason _why I shouldn't kill you right now."

He grinned. "I'm unarmed."

"You're never truly unarmed."

A slight inclination of his head. "Thanks."

"Anything else?" I asked, cocking the gun.

His smirk turned lazy, and to look at him, you wouldn't suspect that blood was rapidly collecting at his feet. "I don't want to give you all my good information _now_, Kashim. I was hoping we could barter..."

I pressed the barrel of the gun hard against his cheek and swallowed a shudder. "One reason to let you live," I warned, forcing my voice to remain steady. "Because I've got a thousand why you should die."

Kurz's hand was on Melissa's arm, holding her back. "Just shoot him, Sousuke," she snapped.

"You have five seconds," I told him calmly.

"I know who's after the girl," he replied automatically.

"Miss Chidori?"

"No, the _other_ girl who's a Whispered," he said with a roll of his eyes.

"Who is it?"

"Another mercenary group, like Mithril."

"And?" I pressed.

"And they're just as efficient," he told me.

I dug the barrel into his skin. "Keep going."

"I don't know, I'm feeling _awfully_ faint..."

"Tell me and then you can pass out," I snarled. "Don't tell me, and I kill you here and now."

His eyes locked on mine coolly. "Kill me, and you'll be caught as blind as a bat at noon."

"We have spies."

"Your spies are double-crossers. I paid off one or two of them myself."

I ground my teeth. "Kurz, contact Lt. Commander Kalinin."

He nodded. "Done."

Mao cut in. "Sousuke, you're not _actually_ going to –"

"It's a lot harder to kill me face-to-face than it is from an AS, isn't it?" Gauron smirked, ignoring her.

"You had _nothing_ of interest to me when we met on the battlefield," I snapped.

"You think I believe you?" he sneered. "I know you better than _that, _my Kashim."

"Do you _want_ me to let you die?" I threatened, face burning.

"Hmm, dying at _your _hand... haven't we tried that before?"

"You show up in my doorway offering information in exchange for your life?" I said softly.

"I'm offering information for... compensation, shall we say."

"You'll live. How's that for compensation?"

A casual shrug. "I've had worse deals, Kashim. Does that mean we have one?"

_Pull the trigger. Kill him and send his body to Mithril. It's the only way you'll truly know he's dead._

"You should have died," I told him in a low voice. Gray eyes pinned me under a calculating gaze as tense silence followed, and I took a step back. "One wrong move, and I'll make sure it happens this time," I warned.

"_Sousuke!_" Melissa nearly shrieked. "Are you _insane_?"

I ignored her. "Walk and talk," I murmured, never lowering the gun. He smirked and proceeded to step inside...

And upon moving, he swayed once and hit the ground, completely unconscious.

"Major, help me move him to the kitchen," I ordered, completely overlooking the fact that _she _was the superior officer, not I. "I need the iron plugged in – it looks like he's been shot very recently, and we have to cauterize the wound before he loses enough blood to require a transfusion."

"Sousuke, I don't want to have to pull rank," she threatened. "But you can't DO this."

"He has more information on the people hunting Miss Chidori than we could hope to gain through intelligence anytime soon," I said shortly. "If he can enable us to strike first, then I think I'm willing to take the risk of letting him live."

"That's not a _risk_, Sousuke, it's _idiocy_," Mao snapped. "You're inviting him to pull something!"

"Well now he's in _my_ custody, isn't he?"

"We've thought that before."

"The people responsible for him then couldn't have even predicted what he was capable of."

"And you are?"

"Painfully so," I told her, avoiding elaboration. "If you could _please _plug in the iron."

"It's already plugged in," she told me icily. "I was doing laundry before I got in the bath."

"Good. Now are you going to help me, or not?"

888888

I was hesitant to let the Major do the cauterizing herself – not that I didn't want him harmed, but if anyone was going to leave a raw burn on his side, it would be _me._ So I had her standing by with a hand gun while I removed his shirt and pressed the hot iron to the bullet wound. Even though he was almost certainly unconscious, I could see the effect the hot iron had on him... and I could see how the bleeding had been forced to stop, as soon as I moved the scalding ceramic from his wound.

The exit wound was messier; I'd cauterized wounds before, but I'd never been an expert at it, and there was most certainly going to be a sizeable scar. And this time, when the iron came in contact with his skin, a grunt of pain slipped out.

Ah. So he _wasn't _entirely out.

Kurz leaned on the doorframe with a sigh as I held the iron to the exposed skin. "Sousuke... as soon as you're done in here, Kalinin wants to speak with you privately. He's got a closed line he wants you to contact as soon as you can."

"Did he mention repercussions for my actions?" I asked calmly. And really, I could expect nothing less than extended leave without pay.

"Nothing more serious than some hours scrubbing floors on the de Daanan," he admitted, to my surprise, "but he looked pissed as hell."

"I can't imagine that he'd be happy about this."

"Me neither."

We were silent for a moment before he spoke again. "He understands that you can't think rationally in this situation, Sousuke. I think he's going easy on you."

"My assignment is to protect Miss Chidori, and Gauron has information vital to her safety," I said flatly.

"I didn't mean Kaname, and you fucking know it," Kurz warned.

"My _assignment,_ Kurz, is to –"

"I'm not talking about your goddamn assignment!" he exploded. "I'm talking about _this_, right now, no information or anything, just you and him. You _know _that he could be lying about everything, from the 'information' he has to the reason he came _here_! Why not go to a normal hospital, where they _won't _burn him to a crisp with the silk setting? Why come to you, of all people? Melissa's right about one thing, you _should _have killed him."

"He's wanted in at least half of the self-governed states of the world," I said, deliberately avoiding part of his question. "I don't think a hospital in Japan would be a wise place to go, especially not after hijacking a plane full of Japanese students and attempting to blow them up. It's a survival technique."

"Sousuke. I'm trying to _say_, that with all that shit before... it just doesn't _look _right. I mean – so you didn't tell a lot of people -"

"Kurz –"

" – But _still_, you said Kalinin knows, and he'll be calling the shots, and you _know _how this looks –"

"Sergeant, I'm _warning _you –"

"I'm just saying," he started warily, "that even though I _know _you think you're doing the right thing... you might be a little – well – _biased _when it comes to –"

"Kurz, that's _more _than enough," I cut him off harshly. "That has nothing to do with what's going on right now."

"Anyone want to clue me in?" asked Mao dangerously.

"Oh, it's a long, unhappy story," came a hoarse voice from the tile floor. "And more than a little inappropriate in some places. By the way, kiddo, that doesn't feel like a silk setting, it feels more like linen."

"Fuck you," was Kurz's immediate response.

"Too bloody for the moment, _kid_. Give me a week, and then we'll talk."

"Shut up or I open fire," I snapped. "You will address Sergeant Weber and Major Mao appropriately and respectively."

"Pardon me for my insubordination."

My glare fell to the double-agent beside me. "I let you live for a single reason," I reminded him calmly. "_You_ have information. _I_ need it. You'll give it to me, or I'll pull the trigger without a second thought, and I swear my only regret will be that I didn't do it sooner. In fact, there's no guarantee that I won't kill you even if you _do _tell me. That's your deal, and you may not like it, but it's the best I'm going to offer you. You're free to leave it if it doesn't meet your standards."

Gray eyes watched me with scornful amusement, but I didn't miss the spasm of pain as he sat up. "That's pretty big talk, Kashim. Are you sure you want to know all the deep, dark things hiding in my brain? You didn't seem too fond of it last time..."

"It had better be worth saving your life," I replied simply, coldly. "And it had better save Miss Chidori's life."

He glanced over my shoulder at Melissa and Kurz. "Not that I don't enjoy your cheerful company," Gauron began dryly, "but I want you two out. I don't need to explain this _three _times."

"Burn in hell," Melissa snapped.

"I might just do that," he shot back. "Want to join me?"

Her middle finger rose artfully, and Gauron looked just short of a sneer. "Save it; if these two are the only men in the house, you'll probably need that."

"That's _enough_," I snapped. "Sergeant, Major, if you don't mind."

"I mind," she growled, "and as your superior, I think that's all that matters."

"Major," I said calmly. "Please leave us alone."

She blinked. "Hell no."

"I don't want to ask you again," I began, listening to my own voice burn with quiet anger. "But I would like you to _get out_."

"Melissa..."

Kurz was wary as he took the Major's arm. "Maybe we should back off. Let's leave them to this – uh – _whatever _it is..."

"I'm reporting you to Kalinin," she told me angrily. "It's bad enough you didn't shoot the son of a bitch on sight, Sousuke – this is goddamn _ridiculous_. I'm not letting this go any further, all right? I don't know what in the hell's come over you, but as your superior, I'm not letting it jeopardize our fucking mission - "

She threatened other things as Kurz dragged her out of the kitchen, but I didn't hear them.

Heavy silence stretched between us as the room emptied, and I couldn't help but feel the weight of our very colorful past hanging in the air. On the one hand was the irresponsible, foolish young man I had been before, desperate to see the light of day again, and on the other hand were the faces of five team members in Helmajistan – all dead now.

All dead because of _him_.

The face of Zaied, who I never really saw reach adulthood, dead because of him.

Perhaps Zaied hurt the worst, because even though Gauron gained from his service, it was I who killed him. All his wisdom, all his kindness, used against me. Maybe it hurt worse to think of Zaied than it did to think of Gray and her team members, because he'd never really stood a chance in the wasteland of Helmajistan.

Perhaps Zaied was the worst one to think about.

"I'm curious," I said once they were out of earshot, "as to how you survived the explosion at the de Daanan."

He smirked. "It's called self-eject, Kashim. Once I was certain I wouldn't be blown up, it was smooth sailing to the next job, no thanks to you. You've made it a little harder to keep a day job."

"I apologize for any inconvenience," I told him without meaning a word of it.

"Kashim," he chuckled hoarsely. "_My_ Kashim. You always had a good poker face... but you're a terrible liar. Next time I narrowly escape death, it would be nice if you at least _pretended _like you were happy to see me. And don't patronize me with your false pity and your mercy-medics... if I'd wanted a wound cauterized, I could have easily done it myself. But heaven knows how you like to feel _important_, and you've proven adept at cauterizing a gunshot wound or two..."

It almost felt like a wall dropped down in my mind – like I was trying to keep myself from going there. "I'll keep that in mind," I gritted, trying to keep myself on the subject. "Now _tell me what I want to hear._"

"I love you, Kashim," he told me without hesitating.

It was a reflex; I wasn't usually violent until provoked, but that did the trick. Gun in hand, I hit him square in the face with force enough to send him sprawling back to the floor. Blood began to run as an angry red mark sprang up, and yet he still managed to pin me with _that _grin. "At least you're not getting soft. You don't believe me?"

"I don't believe anything you say."

"Well since _I'm _the one with valuable information, that might prove a problem."

"I'll cross that bridge when I get there." I tried to make it sound like as much of a threat as I could... but somehow that didn't work very well.

We sat in tense silence for a moment – or at least, _I _was tense. He had probably never been tense a day in his life.

"Tell me about this mercenary group," I said through clenched teeth.

88888

A lazy grin graced his harsh features when he finally decided to talk – because never would he divulge information until _he _wanted to do so. Always exactly when he chose to, never a moment later nor a moment sooner. "Not as big as Mithril, these boys, but don't let that fool you - their technology is just as advanced, and they like to make their time well worth the money. Very efficient. You know all the dirty work that your lot refuses to do, based on the moral high ground and all your political bullshit?"

A sharp nod.

"They'll do it, for the right price."

"Sounds like your kind of people," I remarked darkly.

"I thought so, too. Always did like that group... a whole bunch of guys just like me. Always thought it felt a bit like heaven, myself."

Sounded a lot like hell, to me.

"They were working with the Whispered," he continued, "just like Mithril. Only they're not quite as considerate when it comes to those girls as you are – if they want something from that brilliant mind, they'll go in and _take _it, rather than bribe it out over time. The only problem with that, is that those girls are rigged with the equivalent of a self-destruct switch. Push them too far, too hard, hurt them too much, and they fry their own brains in their skulls, provided they don't go insane first. One of the girls survived long enough to drive herself off the deep end – there's no way to decipher what's valuable information when she talks, and what's a list of ingredients in castor oil. It's like a last-ditch effort to guard their secrets.

"The Chidori girl, though, was responding well to the experiments in Khanka. Most of the others started showing strain real early in the process, but she was holding up nicely – till you blundered along, that is. And word got out that she wasn't cracking when the other subjects did, and you know how people get when they want something... whether we'd completed our mission over there or not, they would have come for her. They've had her watched since you were returned to Japan."

"And where do you fit into all of this?"

"They were hovering nearby the last time you and I danced – they picked me up out of the water and offered me a job, since I'd just been kicked off my last one," he explained. "Give them all the information I'd collected on Miss Kaname, get more, bring her to them. Frankly, I'm getting sick of her. I'd _much _rather get my hands on your captain's lovely mind –"

"_Keep talking_," I warned, not in the mood for his humor.

That suspicious, all-seeing gaze was tainted with scorn. "Sore subject?"

"Just stay on topic and keep going."

A smug grin. "_Anyways_, before I was derailed... they want Miss Kaname alive, and like any good terrorist cell, they want you dead. If they get their hands on her, she'll be subjected to the same 'torture' that the other girls they've burned out went through. Maybe she'll last longer, maybe she won't. They'll use her up until she's as dry as Helmajistan, and then they'll either dump her somewhere, or kill her."

"And why go behind their backs? Was that part of some larger plan?" I asked.

Annoyance flashed behind his eyes, but I could see a considerable distance to it. It had no relation to me, I didn't think. "Wouldn't that make things simpler. No, I planned on sticking with them until I received compensation, and then I was going to wing it from there – maybe go to the Russians again; they pay well enough if they survive. But I was stuck on _babysitting _detail, for Chrissakes, following Chidori when you weren't there, figuring out a time when she could be easily gotten to and there would be no interference. Some punk with an Uzi was hired to kill you, but _I _wasn't informed of this. As soon as I found out... well... you can imagine my displeasure. Some rather hurtful words were exchanged... I offered poorly received suggestions. You know how I _hate _that."

"Such as?"

"I told them to stick their rocket launcher on Chidori instead, and _I'd_ present your head on a plate by the end of the week. In the grander scheme of things," he told me, pinning me with a gaze so clear you'd think he was reciting Shakespeare, "_I _am going to kill you. Not the Soviets, not the Chinese, not the Americans, and sure as hell not some punk-ass kid with a gun and a Judas complex bigger than mine. I'm the only person on the planet capable of killing you, Kashim, and you unfortunately hold the same distinction over _my _life. Even if that bottle-fed brat could have shot you in the back and killed you..."

I was very careful to keep at least six inches and a gun between us, even as his voice drew me back in.

Gauron shook his head, a light smirk playing about his mouth. "Even if he'd succeeded, you deserve to die better than that. And when you _do _die, it sure as hell won't be for Chidori."

I let out a bated breath. "This isn't about me," I reminded him.

"The mission, no. The disagreement that landed me here... yes."

I raised an eyebrow. "And you were shot?"

"I don't like having my judgment questioned, so I shot the balls off of the commander as my way of resigning. They thought it only fair to give me a... _parting shot_ as well."

That didn't sound unlikely.

"Why come here?" I asked simply. "You had no way of knowing I wouldn't shoot you, too."

"But the look on your face would have made it worth my while," he chuckled.

_Don't get too familiar – he hasn't changed. Not for the better. Don't think _you'll _change him, Sagara – you'll just be wrong again._

I gritted my teeth. "So you're selling them out, just like that."

"Just like that," he agreed.

"For a price."

He flashed a grin at me. "There's always a price."

"What if I refuse to meet your price, now that I have information?"

Gauron rolled his eyes. "You think I'm selling _that _sob story? Trust me, Kashim, you'll need more than that to keep them from wiring Kaname's head like a switchboard."

"Once I have all the information, I'll see that you're reasonably compensated."

He raised his eyebrows. "Can I name my price?"

"Within reason," I reminded him.

A grin that I didn't trust. "Don't worry, money is _never_ the only thing I'm after."

I knew him well enough to take absolutely no comfort in that knowledge.


	4. An Arrangement

_Love my reviewers, as ever! This is a bit of a filler chapter – no real action, just some necessary info and all. And Sousuke and Gauron in a bathroom, but no one's interested in _that_… I swear I'll work out some slash around the plot. Heh._

My hands fisted in my hair as I tried to explain myself to Kalinin. "Sir… he came to my door, unarmed, offering intelligence on the terrorist cell who has been keeping tabs on Miss Chidori. I thought it in everyone's best interest –"

"This is in _his _best interest, Sergeant."

"Sir, I –"

"Your first reaction, as a trained soldier, is to eliminate threats as they're presented to you, Sergeant Sagara," he cut me off. "And by association, you should have eliminated him the moment you realized he was alive. He is a _direct _threat to Miss Chidori and therefore to your mission –"

"But sir, he can also be a direct asset to –"

"If – and that is a very large _if –_ he doesn't capture Miss Chidori himself and claim the largest bounty from the highest bidder," he continued. "His loyalties always have, and always will, lie within the largest paycheck."

"With all due respect, sir, why don't _we_ offer him the biggest paycheck?" Kurz cut in, shocking me speechless. Was he taking up for my actions?

"We will discuss our next step with Gauron in time, Sergeant Weber," Kalenin told him, "but first, Sergeant Sagara must understand the extremely dangerous situation he has put us in."

"Sir, if you want me to, I'll go in there and shoot the son of a bitch right now, and get us _out _of this situation – to be honest, I think he's a conniving bastard and I hate him, and every second that I check to make sure he's still alive is another second that I wish he wasn't. On top of _that_, I think he's loving every minute of this, and I might just shoot him because he's kept me pissed off for the last twelve hours," was the response. "But I think Sousuke has a point – he's the reason we've been in so much trouble before. He's a bad enemy to have. So – what if he wasn't the enemy anymore? Maybe Sousuke didn't screw us over… we could just as easily have a _really _powerful ally."

"For a price," the Lt. Commander reminded him.

"Yeah, but he's smart, if nothing else. He knows we'll only pay him so much, and _we're _smart enough to make sure he doesn't limp his happy ass over to the other guys looking for a better offer if we don't make a good one. Plus, as far as I can tell, he's not in very good books with their management – otherwise he wouldn't have almost died on our doormat," Kurz argued.

"Sergeant Weber, your foresight is very impressive, as is your appreciation of what it will take to ensure that his loyalties remain here, but keep in mind that you have only ever experienced Gauron from inside an Arm Slave – he doesn't care who he sells out, or who he betrays, and if a vendetta is personal enough, it won't take large sums of money to draw him to the other side," Kalenin sighed.

"…If you'd _all _stop talking about me like I'm not here," came the tired, unused voice from the next room. "Christ, you people make my head hurt. For the right price, I'll tell all of you what you want to hear, and for a better price, I won't tell anyone what _you _tell _me_."

_I love you, Kashim._

My hand twitched on the gun at the memory.

"And yes, there's a chance that I'll find you all boring and annoying and jump ship – but I'm not looking to get _shot _again, and I think that if I set foot anywhere near those fuckheads anytime soon, I probably _will _be. All you have right now is my word."

"That," Kalenin said coldly, in his first words to Gauron since his capture, "is not going to be enough."

There was a shuffle, followed by a thud, as Gauron's frame darkened the doorway, and I could already see a faint red stain seeping through the gauze around his waist, just from the effort of coming into the room. "Sit down."

He ignored me, and in an instant my gun was aimed at his throat. "_I said sit down._"

His cool gaze settled on me scornfully. "Don't worry, Kashim, I'm not quite at death's door anymore. I think I can walk six feet, thanks."

"You're in _my _custody at this moment," I told him flatly, "and if I tell you to sit, you'll do it. You're as close to death at this moment as you were twelve hours ago, and I don't want you to _forget _that."

His eyebrows rose. "Oh I _see._"

"Good," I said shortly. "Then you won't mind sitting down and keeping your hands where I can see them."

"Is there somewhere else they might end up?"

Kurz's weapon was up immediately, cocked and ready to fire. "One more shit-eating comment like that," he warned, "and I'll make you look like Swiss cheese."

"My apologies, _Sergeant_."

"If _everyone _present could be civilized," the Lt. Commander cut in. "Gauron – you know the rules, I'm sure." The name sounded like more of a swear word, and his tone made it seem appropriate for a schoolyard fight, rather than a civilized conversation.

"Cooperate with your lapdogs by giving them the information needed to eliminate my former employers, preferably of my own accord…" he droned, "but _honestly_, Kalenin, they don't need to keep guns on me at all times. I'm not very inclined to help you out if I can smell gunpowder everywhere I go."

"If I had a guarantee that you wouldn't take advantage of such a compromise," Kalenin shot back, blatant dislike coloring his voice, "it might be a reasonable suggestion. But I wouldn't trust you near Sgt. Sagara and his team if they weren't heavily armed, and so heavily armed they will remain."

"…Right."

"Sir," Melissa piped in, "will we need backup to deal with him? I mean – we're kind of cramped in this apartment and all, especially now, but I wouldn't object to four or five extra soldiers nearby, just in case."

"Unfortunately, Major, a hundred people will be as effective as three in this situation."

"I don't understand, sir."

"He means," Gauron threw in, "that if I get it in my head to kill you and trade sides again, it won't _matter_ how many of you try to stop me. You could have an armed squad waiting for me to step out the door so I could be apprehended, but I can promise you that it would be a waste of my time."

"Man and machine are in a class of their own," I'd told Kurz in another lifetime.

I, meantime, was starting to realize _exactly _what situation I'd put everyone in – he truly was unpredictable, and we'd made it clear to him that we would not allow him to double-cross us. If he wanted to –

He would kill _everyone_.

And then he would take Miss Chidori with him, so that she could be experimented upon like a common lab rat. She would become the living dead, like the girl we'd rescued shortly before we were assigned to her.

More casualties, more death, because I was unable to _kill _him.

I set my jaw. "It won't be necessary to send more people out, sir. If he tries anything, I'll kill him myself."

"Because you've been so _hot _on the idea lately," Melissa snapped.

"This is indeed a unique situation," Kalenin admitted. "There's currently no protocol on how to deal with either Sgt. Sagara or Gauron – I suppose, Sergeant, that punishment will be issued depending on how your mission goes. And Gauron… I hope for your sake that you don't survive this mission, because Mithril is not the only party interested in seeing you dead."

"You know, old man, sometimes I miss talking to you, what with the way you _always _look out for others," was the dry response. And at that, he stood up and stormed out of the room as best he could with the gunshot wound in his side.

"Well this is sure opposite planet today," Melissa grouched.

"I'll be expecting full reports at the end of each day, at _least_," Kalenin informed us. "You know, of course, that I must be informed if anything arises."

"Absolutely, sir," she assured him, but I suspected he'd be hearing from Melissa more than once or twice a day, and it wasn't going to be a pleasant experience.

"I want each of you to remember that even though he's assisting us at the moment, his only loyalty is to himself," he warned us. "At no moment will you forget that your safety and Miss Chidori's is compromised every single moment that he is alive."

We all exchanged somber glances and nodded, even though Kalenin couldn't see it. "Understood, sir."

It was with hesitation that I entered the bathroom, only to see Gauron with a handful of bloody gauze in his hands and a sink stained with blood. He didn't even spare me a glance upon speaking.

"I suppose this means privacy is a luxury I'm not afforded?" he asked shortly.

"Did you expect otherwise?"

"No, I suppose not." His hands gripped the sink, white knuckles the only outward sign that he was annoyed. "But if you don't _get the fuck out _I'll snap you in half, privacy or no."

I snatched his bloodied shirt off the counter. "I'll dispose of this and find you something else to wear."

"I'll be fine," he grumbled, pressing a steaming cloth to his side without flinching. "But if you're going to be Betty Homemaker, I _could _use some clean bandages. You didn't do such a great job of burning the shit out of me this time."

"I could fix that." Whether it was an offer of aid, or a threat, was up to him.

A low chuckle. "I thought we were supposed to be _professional _around each other, Kashim."

I narrowed my eyes, choosing to ignore the insinuation. "I have no intention of being otherwise, unless you give me a reason to do so."

He stood to his full height and smirked, no less intimidating even with the bald injuries showing and traces of blood everywhere his hands had been. "I have a thousand reasons, Kashim – surely you haven't forgotten."

_Goddamn it._

This was the first time we'd been alone, he and I – the first time since the _last_ time. The first time that we weren't seated in our respective Arm Slaves, fighting for two different sides, or the first time that there weren't other people around – the background noise of Kurz and Mao had moved elsewhere, and at that moment, it was just the two of us, standing in a bathroom.

Not good.

_Definitely_ not good.

"That," I told him calmly, "is in the past, and is no longer an issue. So I would appreciate it if you didn't regard it as such."

"Not an issue, humm."

"Not an issue."

He advanced on me, looming, but I held my ground without flinching. "So far in the past that you don't remember the good times?" he purred, entirely too close. Entirely too familiar. _Entirely _too –

"Step back," I warned softly.

As if reading my mind, his words came effortlessly. "Too familiar?"

"You're playing a very different game now that you aren't being paid to _kill_ me," I told him icily.

I remained completely stiff, and the slight distance between us grew slightly more bearable. "Some things change, you know."

"Yes," I agreed firmly, "they do."

His smile grew predatory as he grabbed his shirt from my hand and brushed by me – again, too close, and now there was a lingering contact as our hands brushed. I could still feel the heat that mesmerized me so very long ago, and got me into the situation I now stood in. His presence was as overwhelming and distracting as ever. "But some things _never _change, my Kashim."

**Kaname**

Nearly two days since I'd seen Sousuke – an unheard-of two days, because he was _always_ at my door before school. First he'd stood me up, the thoughtless _jerk_, and now he was nowhere to be found. My ego was all that kept me from going to the apartment he shared with Kurz and Melissa, and seeing what exactly was wrong. Because then I cared enough about him to worry, and God only knew what would happen if he actually knew _that_.

So when there was a loud knock on my door, and I opened it to find Sousuke standing in his school uniform, minus the jacket, I blinked. "God, don't you know it's rude to drop by without calling?" I snapped, trying to make up for the surprise on my face.

He looked tired, frustrated, and _shaken_. "Miss Chidori. Would – I apologize for coming so suddenly – I'd like to request permission to stay on your couch until class tomorrow."

Blink.

Blink.

"…Um. Sure?" I said, a little dumbfounded. "Is – is everyone okay? I haven't seen you in two days, and I was starting to think something had gone wrong…"

He shook his head. "There have been developments."

"Developments like…"

"I'm sorry, Miss Chidori, but I'm not at liberty to say yet."

"But everything is okay, right?" I pressed.

"Major Mao is taking care of things back at our residence," he said vaguely. "I've been given permission to take the rest of the day off."

"You look like hell," I remarked.

"I feel like it as well, Miss Chidori."

And that was all he would say before he laid down on the couch and closed his eyes.

But he wasn't sleeping.


	5. A Sabbatical

_Got plenty written over Thanksgiving, so there should only be a 4 or 5 day delay in between chappies… be generous with reviews! Thank you guys for your fantasmo feedback – you know I love you for it!_

**Sousuke**

Sleep never came to me on the couch that night; instead, I lay staring at the ceiling trying to _make _myself sleep. Which didn't work, incidentally – Miss Chidori's hamster rolled all over the apartment, little feet skittering around inside his little plastic ball, and she herself tossed and turned when she finally went to sleep.

My mind was far too awake to simply force myself to sleep – I'd always been a fitful sleeper, just because of stress, but this was beyond most things I usually dealt with. The last several weeks had been nightmarish in and of themselves, and _his _return wasn't helping at all.

Kurz and Melissa were a testament to the absolute hell that followed the de Daanan's hijacking – I was a man haunted, and even I could see it. None of my encounters with Gauron had ever seemed so _final_, neither in Khanka or Helmajistan, but after his AS exploded in the water, it felt _over_. It was a finality that gave me closure, but at the same time it kept me awake at night, replaying the scene in my mind until I thought I'd go crazy.

Maybe that's why it was so different… and what he said –

Would I _ever _be able to forget that?

He was a lot of things: conniving, double-crossing, untrustworthy, utterly deadly. And he'd killed dozens of people, betrayed even more, arranged for even more people to die. I'd known all these things for years; that knowledge was what led me to aide Kalinin so many years ago when he came and asked for an assassin. He'd done plenty of things to me worth dying for.

But when it came to _that…_

He never said it. Never said he'd felt _anything_.

And me? I was a young, idealistic _idiot._ I knew I was deluding myself when it came to him, but while we were – well, _whatever _we were – I could almost imagine that he wasn't the undeniably evil man I'd shot in the head. I could convince myself that he was different, better, someone else, and that seemed to make it okay. But he never _honestly_ told me how he felt about me, and I never wanted to know. It was the only line we never crossed, because that would have made it _real_, not just _easy._

One word had come to my mind, once Gauron vanished again: _whore_. I'd been used, and I'd _let _myself be used. I had wanted it, and what he sought from me, I offered; I wasn't blind to what he wanted, and I wasn't blind to where it would lead.

I just _pretended _to be blind.

To think back, I couldn't imagine what had possessed me, and I couldn't see myself doing the same thing again, no matter what the circumstances, no matter how many ways I tried to justify it to myself. It had made me sick to my stomach when Kalinin asked if there had been any other incidents he should know about – once it was _over_, I could no longer dismiss it as necessary, and it felt like a ton of bricks dropped on me, once I stopped lying to myself. It would never happen again, and damned if I didn't hope to God he was dead.

Until I lay down on Kaname's couch, staring at the ceiling and realizing just how close I'd come to _letting _it happen again.

In the beginning, when I was just a grunt in Mithril's ranks and he was my 'informant' in Hong Kong, I was completely all right with the absolute lack of control I displayed when I was with him. Today was the first time we'd been alone since those days, save for the kitchen earlier the day before. But he was on the brink of bleeding to death, and so I suppose it didn't count. We weren't exactly on equal standings then.

But now, in the bathroom – it was _that _sort of thing that got me in trouble with him before.

Somehow, this new trouble seemed a little worse.

Or a _lot _worse.

**Kaname**

There were dark circles under Sousuke's eyes as we walked to school the next morning: a testament to the fact that he hadn't slept. I lest silence stretch for nearly two blocks before I spoke.

"So are you going to tell me what's wrong, or am I going to have to guess?" I finally groaned, when he failed to speak first.

"I'm not at liberty to –"

"Yeah, I know, not at liberty to tell me, I've heard," I grouched. "But _something _is wrong, Sousuke, and you can't pretend like it's not. Is it those terrorist-y guys you were stressing about the other day?"

"I wish it was that simple," he admitted wearily. "It does have something to do with that, but it's in your best interest if you don't find out just yet. I have good news, however – we have a lead on the group who's been having you watched. I believe we can go on the offensive within the next week."

"That's good, right?"

"At this moment, yes."

"And you're not sleeping because…"

"There have been some complications over the last day," Sousuke told me in a voice that was falsely calm and controlled. This meant: bad complication. Probably _really _bad. "But it's nothing that I can't handle."

His tone of voice irked me, because it didn't sound like _I _was the one he was trying to convince. He was way too calm. "Yeah, I know how you _handle_," I scowled. "Complications with the terrorists?"

"…Sort of."

"…Is it that Gauron guy?"

His too-quick reaction was all the answer I needed. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, is he involved with those guys?" I pressed, getting the answer I needed and dreaded just from his reaction.

A sigh and shake of his head. "No, no, he's not."

"Oh. Well, I guess that's good."

Wait. Did he say that as if Gauron were –?

"Is he alive?" I demanded. He set his jaw, searching for an answer, but I didn't give him time to find one. "He's _alive_?!" I shrieked.

Sousuke cringed, and I whacked him with my bag upside the head. "And you didn't _tell _me?" I demanded. "Great, so he could have snuck over while you _weren't _sleeping and, like, _killed _me or donated my brain to science or done weird shit to me, like last time? Hey, thanks for keeping me in the loop, you _lunatic!_ Shouldn't you _tell _me when this stuff happens? Jeez!"

"I didn't –" WHACK "-want to – _ouch – _I didn't want to worry you, Miss –"

"You _idiot!_" I cut him off. "God, Sousuke, thanks, but I'd rather _worry _and be in the _loop!_ I mean, I'm like his _target _or something! He's probably being paid to split my _head _open like a _watermelon_ and see if Black Technology or whatever comes out!" At that, I hit him with my bag again.

"If he were a danger to you, I would have –"

"Oh, so now he's not _dangerous_? Nice to know that he's a deaf, mute, blind quadriplegic!"

"I can't – I'd rather not discuss –"

"So YOU DON'T WANT TO TALK ABOUT THE GUY THAT KIDNAPPED THE WHOLE GRADE AND TRIED TO KILL US AND TURN ME INTO A SCIENCE EXPERIMENT ON OUR CLASS TRIP?" I wailed. "Nice to know, _moron_, but that's not going to hold water with me!"

"He's not a danger to you, he's working for Mithril –"

"He's working _for _you? Are you all INSANE?!"

"You're starting to sound like Major Mao."

"Well then she sounds pretty damn smart, doesn't she?"

We were getting very close to the school by then, and I knew we'd have to wrap it up soon, so I hit him with my literature book for good measure. "Just – _shut up_, okay? God, sometimes you are _so _– OOOHHH!"

He kept a safe distance the rest of the day – not far enough away for _my _taste, but far enough that he could duck if I threw something.

Which I did.

Repeatedly.

_**88888**_

**Sousuke**

I was hesitant to return to home base after the incident with Gauron, and I suspected Kurz had spoken to Melissa about allowing me to remain with Miss Chidori for several days, because I hadn't received orders to come back yet. But it seemed unlike Major Mao to allow me to simply_ leave _without asking any questions…

Which _had _to mean she knew something.

Kurz had the biggest mouth of anyone I'd met, and if he _told _Melissa what he knew – if that was why she was allowing me my space –

Or maybe they'd just shot Gauron, and I wasn't needed yet. Because that _wasn't_ unlikely, especially when Melissa's trigger finger was combined with her temper.

And I wasn't entirely fond of the idea.

Which was exactly why I didn't return for several days.

But I'd met up with Kurz in the city after the second day, and we'd exchanged earpieces so that we could remain in constant contact – it proved to be a thoughtless move, as I could hear Kurz any time he _wanted_ me to hear him, and he found it amusing to talk to me at the most inopportune times.

He decided, on Thursday, to chatter incessantly all through my algebra class, which annoyed me to no end. But he was actually telling me _useful_ information, which I appreciated. (Even if his timing _was_ rather inconsiderate.)

I sat hunched over my assignment, pretending to work on it as Kurz prattled on in my ear. "Kalinin is hinting at an offensive operation by the end of the week," he told me. "But I'm not sure how that's going to sit with your buddy over here, because _he _says that a bunch of M9's aren't going to hold any water against these guys. We've been negotiating information exchanges, which he's been a little reluctant to do since you left, but from what I've gotten out of him, this other group, MUSE, is pretty advanced. I mean, it's not going to be us against Soviet-class equipment by a long shot – no Savages, nothing like that. Gauron was explaining that MUSE has done more work with the Whispered than Mithril, and so their weapons and technology are a little more advanced. He said that the only one of us who'd even stand a chance in combat would be you, since you'll be fighting in Arbalest. They're on the brink of mass-producing Arm Slaves with LAMDA drivers, apparently."

"Perfect," I muttered, and erased something I'd written for good measure.

"That's what I said," he agreed. "He said that as far as he could tell, they weren't going to move in on Kaname just yet – they want you out of the way first. So be on your guard, man. My guess is that when they get in gear, they'll have two operations running at the same time: one to get you out of the way, and another to grab Kaname while you're distracted. The fact that Gauron expressed interest in killing you himself makes me think that any action against you will be pretty big, since he made it clear that he wanted to do it personally. And I heard how much they were paying him – Sousuke, he could have bought his own _country _with the paycheck they were going to give him. And not a _small _country, either."

"Hmm."

"Mithril can't even offer him half of what he was getting there – or, we _could_, and we wouldn't even feel a dent in our finances, but we're already breaking our top rule of non-negotiation with terrorists."

_It's not _our _rule,_ I wanted to tell him. _Mercenary groups aren't choosy in their allies, unless they're very _powerful _allies._ In Helmajistan, our little band of insurgents teamed up with whoever we could get the most out of; that was how I came to attempt to kill Gauron alongside Kalinin. An enemy of my enemy was my friend, after all.

"Anyways, we _could _match his last paycheck and guarantee that he wouldn't sell us out," he continued, "but the top dogs are already shitting kittens over us housing him, not killing him, and talking about paying him – so says Tessa, at least, and she tends to make things sound not quite as bad as they really are. They won't offer him as much as he was getting before."

"Well of course they –"

I cut myself off when several students turned and gave me funny glances, and hurried back to my schoolwork.

Kurz was snickering. "Idiot. Now you're the creepy loner who talks to himself… I don't envy you. I used to pick on that kid when I was in school."

I sighed in annoyance.

"As for your favorite mass-murderer, he seems to be on the road to full recovery – unfortunately. His color has gotten better, and even though it hasn't quite been a week yet, he's moving around like he doesn't have a care in the world. Not that we're letting him go very far," he added quickly. "He just paces the apartment."

_Like a caged animal_, I thought with a hint of irony.

"And he keeps trying to find out where you are – I told him you were off knocking someone up and couldn't be bothered. He didn't think it was very funny."

"Great, Kurz," I scowled, and this time Kaname's fixed on me, curious and demanding. I tapped my ear and hoped she understood. She nodded, then glared at me for good measure in an attempt to reassure me that she was still very displeased.

"Well he wouldn't get off of it," he whined. "And Melissa's had her panties in a twist since you left – I mean, she gets that you don't want to be around him and all, but cut the babe some slack. She doesn't want to be around him much, either."

A noise of agreement; I couldn't blame her for that.

"In _important _news, I'm getting a look from your boy right now. He doesn't think – _fuck _you, asshole," he snapped, and I was fairly certain (thanks to background noise) that he wasn't talking to me. "I'll get him the message, okay? Shouldn't you be off drowning kittens or something? _Jesus_."

"Kurz," I coughed, trying to draw his attention. Oh – this was pointless. I raised my hand, and the teacher glanced at me.

"Yes, Mr. Sagara?" she said.

"May I use the restroom?" I asked.

She gave me a wary look. "Will you behave?"

"Yes, ma'am."

She gave me a permissive nod. "All right, then."

The moment I was in the hallway and certain that it was empty, I began to talk. "Kurz, ignore him, he's just trying to get you angry."

"Well he's doing a fucking good job!"

"_Kurz,_" I snapped. "Tell me what you were going to say and don't even look at him."

"He – look. I know I said Kalinin wants to make a move by the end of the week, but Gauron – _what_? He thinks that if we wait that long, they might strike first, and he – uh, he says to stay on your guard. Are you armed?"

"No," I growled, frustrated. "I was caught too many times with automatic weapons, and the principal finally started making me come by his office every morning and proving that I was unarmed. I don't have _anything _on me."

"_What?_ How long have you been unarmed?"

"Nearly a week. I opened fire on a trash can after lunch break, and I've been under heavy surveillance since then."

"_Jesus_, Sousuke, only you. Look, do you want us to bring you anything? Or – _I'll _be bringing it, asshole, you're not going _anywhere_ – I have an ankle holster you can wear, if you want. It's just a six-shooter, but it's better than being unarmed."

"Definitely better," I agreed. "If someone was to attack Miss Chidori and I didn't have a weapon… it could prove disastrous. It's in everyone's best interest."

"I don't even want to think about it, okay? You need a weapon, and if I have to get Tessa to call that stupid school and clear it, I'll do it. So –" he paused, as if listening. "Yeah… that's true."

"What?" I asked.

"As far as we're concerned, Sousuke, you _are _a weapon."

I sighed. "Be that as it may, I would feel more comfortable if you brought me that six-shooter."

Silence stretched as I thought of what to say. "Kurz, are you the only one who can hear me?"

"Yeah, but I'm not by myself in here –"

"Can _he _hear me?"

"No."

"All right, then. The entire point of my presence in Miss Chidori's home is that I do not want _anything _to do with him at this point. When I'm needed, I will return and deal with him as if it's normal, but as long as he's just sitting around with nothing better to do than _harass_ me, I feel it's in my best interest and, by association, Miss Chidori's, if I'm not in close quarters with him. So do me a favor, and don't relay his messages every time he says something."

"That bad, huh. Want me to kill him?" he asked calmly, not a trace of detectable humor in his voice.

"The problem, Kurz, is that I _don't _want you to kill him."

"I don't get it."

"_Think _about it," I sighed. "I have to get back to class."

"Do you want that gun today, or tomorrow?"

"Bring it by the school at about nine tomorrow," I told him. "I still have to report to the principal and prove to him that I'm not carrying a weapon, and if he finds one on me, he'll confiscate it."

"Right."

"And find out if Gauron just _thinks _MUSE will strike early, or if he _knows _it and just doesn't want to tell you."

"I think…"

I almost groaned.

"Look, I think he'd tell _you_."

_One more day,_ I thought desperately. _All I need is one more day to get a handle on myself, and then I can go back._

_But what if they attack before then?_

They wouldn't. Not so soon after they lost their informant.

Unless… _losing_ him spurred them into action. It wouldn't surprise me in the least if they knew he was still alive, and anticipated him going to Mithril with what he knew. And if that happened, anyone _intelligent_ would realize that they would have to make a move while they still had the element of surprise – which, if they operated the way I suspected they did, meant that we had even less time than before.

"I'll be back tomorrow after class," I said with resignation. It was already an extreme compromise to wait that long, but it was still there. I could still feel my hands shake slightly at the thought of being around him, and it wasn't entirely from fear, or hatred. "Just – keep him away from me, or I won't be responsible for my actions."

Entirely true.

Tomorrow I would stop running from my problems, and we would figure out just how to move against a mercenary group as dangerous as ourselves.

What I didn't know was that we were already out of time.


	6. An Ambush

_I'm really terrible at writing action sequences. Already this fic hasn't met my standards quality-wise, and now I have to go shit up a fight scene. Jesus._

I walked out of the principal's office with my hands stuffed in my pocket, content once again that I wasn't sent to detention (due entirely to the fact that I didn't have any weapons on me at the time). Kurz was due at the school by nine at the latest with a six-shooter – not my personal favorite, but small enough to be inconspicuous.

…A six-shooter. _Perfect._ _If _terrorists actually showed up that day, I'd have to hope that there were only six of them and choose my shots wisely – which, in hostile situations, wasn't exactly an easy thing to do.

Nine.

Only forty-five minutes to go.

Forty-five minutes where I was antsier than was normal. Forty-five minutes that would probably feel like forty-five years. In other words, hell.

Just forty-five minutes.

I'd muted my earpiece in sheer annoyance, not looking forward to a repeat of the day before, but by the time eight-thirty rolled around, I was beginning to dislike the silence… I felt out of the loop, and that wasn't something I could afford to be.

It was at precisely eight forty-five that I noticed something out of the ordinary: two men, neither of them teachers, both wearing bulky shirts and trench coats. To the trained eye, that suggested Kevlar vests. _Why would they need bullet-proof clothing in a high school?_... At a closer glance, I could see their eyes trained on us as we walked – so we were being followed.

Not good.

I glanced at Miss Chidori, who walked beside me for the time being. "I don't wish to alarm you, Miss Chidori, but I feel it necessary for you to remain at my side. I have two possible hostiles at six o'clock, and you are possibly at risk."

She rolled her eyes. "It's probably security from _maniacs _like you."

I reached in my pocket, fishing for the remote to my earpiece, and turned it on. "Talk to me, Kurz," I said calmly. "I have two potential targets fifty feet away, both of them wearing bullet-proof vests, most likely armed. I have Chidori with me, and I can't engage in such a populated area without a weapon."

There was a crackle as Kurz's voice came over. "_Dammit_, Sousuke, don't turn that thing off, I've been trying to get in touch with you for twenty minutes! Get Kaname _out _of there, her apartment was raided about fifteen minutes ago, and we're on our way to the school right now – here, talk to Melissa –"

"Sergeant, _do not engage_," came Mao's voice as the device was passed along. "Get Kaname out of the school, do you – shit_, don't_ leave the school, we've got hostiles at every exit, most likely waiting for you. _Shit_. Wait for us, Sousuke – that's an order. Okay?"

"Understood," I said grimly. "Miss Kaname, follow me."

"Oh, shut up," she grumbled.

"Where's the safest place to go in this school?" I demanded.

Kaname rolled her eyes. "It's not the end of the world, Sousuke – you think they'd pull something in front of a thousand students? Yeah, _right._"

I glanced around in hopes that she was right, but even as she said that, the students began dispersing to their separate classes, and within a minute the halls would be empty – fewer casualties, less interference, no witnesses. "We need to go somewhere safe, _now_," I snapped, no longer in the mood to cater her every mood swing. "The entrances to the school are being watched, so we can't leave – Sergeant Weber and Major Mao are on their way now, and I'm not armed, so all we can do is hide for the moment."

Her eyes grew round. "_Hide? _You're – something's actually going on?"

"That's affirmative," I said grimly.

"Well – should we split up, or –"

"You do not leave my side unless I tell you to do so," I told her firmly. "You're the primary objective, and my job is to ensure your safety. So _do not leave my sight_."

A wide-eyed nod. "Okay. I can do that."

There was a three-way argument going on in my ear, but I had to tune it out unless I was directly spoken to – it was too distracting.

My first instinct was to lose them in the crowd, but Kaname was a very conspicuous person, and I could neither bring her along nor leave her behind. I gripped her elbow, trying to think of some way to convey the severity of the situation and keep her calm at the same time. "Don't look behind you. If they know you've spotted them, they'll move in."

"Where do we go?" she asked, voice dropping to a nervous whisper.

"I'm not sure," I admitted with frustration. "Major, what's your location?"

"We're pulling into the parking lot – where are you?"

"At the stairs by the cafeteria."

"Go down them, towards the entrance, and _wait for us_. We're a minute away."

"Too long," I snapped, spotting several more men coming down the hallway.

"Chidori, down the stairs," I ordered. "_Now._"

"Kurz, out of the van," Melissa ordered. _"Now_."

And hand in hand, with the crowd around us growing dangerously thin, we dashed down the stairs towards the entrance.

I could hear the footsteps behind us break into a sprint, and something was shouted in another language – Kurz, meanwhile, could be seen dashing into the school, armed to the teeth.

"Sousuke!" he yelled, pulling out what definitely _wasn't _a six-shooter. "_Catch!_"

And then we came to a jarring halt. Cold steel pressed into the back of my neck, and someone behind me called, "Throw it, and I shoot them both."

_Another one! How did I miss him?!_

Kurz skidded to a halt, gun in hand. "You can shoot him, but not before _I _shoot _you_," he warned.

"I don't want to have to kill them," the man began. "She's no good to me dead, and I get more for him if he lives as well, but I'm not in the mood to compromise. So set the gun down _very gently_ and kick it over here."

"Fuck you," came Mao's voice from beside us – she had a gun in hand as well. And she wasn't alone.

"What in the _hell _is he doing here?" I demanded, stunned.

"He didn't take no for an answer," she gritted, gun aimed at whoever was behind me.

Believable.

"So, you _did _survive," the man said calmly. "We suspected you would –"

A whimper from Kaname as she was yanked away from me by another armed person. I made a move to reach for her, but a firm hand on my arm restrained me.

_Kaname._

"-But I never thought you'd go to _them_."

Gauron shrugged. "You never know. They offered me a pretty nice sum."

"Unless it was double what we were paying you, they're wasting their time."

_Wait for it. _Wait_ for it_. The pressure from the gun was lessening, and if I waited just _one more second…_

There.

There was a yelp of pain from my assailant as I spun and knocked the gun out of his hand and sent it skidding past Melissa, then cursed roundly as he nearly immediately landed a blow to my stomach, sending me to my knees. I made a move to shrug it off and push myself to my feet… only to feel my hand come away from the impact point bloody. That was when I glanced at his hand, only to see the light glimmer off the edge of a blade.

He'd _stabbed _me.

_Okay, work with this._

I doubled over, holding my stomach, and he grabbed my chin – probably to raise my face and punch me, only he never got the chance. The moment his hand touched me, I snapped my own hand up and grabbed his wrist, yanking him to the floor and wrenching his arm behind his back, my knee digging into his spine. With my free hand I pried the knife free and pressed it to his throat. _"Call them off_."

He struggled against me, but not as violently as he could once the knife dug into his skin. "They're not going to let you intimidate them, you _fool_."

"Do it," I said calmly, "or I kill you now and then _make them_."

He stayed strong for a moment, but I twisted his arm nearly to the point of breaking, and pressed harder with the blade. "Fuck – _fall back!_" he nearly shouted. "That's an order! Now let me _go_, you ignorant brat! And call off your three!"

I glanced at Melissa, who nodded. "Only fair. Kurz, drop it. Sousuke – release him, but make sure he doesn't try anything stupid."

Kurz slid his gun into its holster with a nod. _Simple as that_, I though with satisfaction.

"What do you want?" I asked, releasing him and closing a hand over my stomach, feeling blood seep through my fingers despite the pressure.

"The Whispered."

"I thought we'd established that already," Gauron interrupted.

And then –

Not so simple, after all.

"But you didn't listen to me, did you?" he asked calmly, picking up the gun that had gone flying just moments ago. "I'm not getting paid _nearly _enough for this abuse. _Richardson…_ how are things going, since I shot your commander's balls off?"

"He's torn between having you killed, and trying to get you back."

"Really. You said… what was it… _twice_ what I was getting before?

"Twice," the man agreed, pushing himself to his feet.

Without warning, the ground at his feet exploded – all eyes snapped to Gauron and the smoking gun he held in his hand. "Did I say you could get up?" he demanded. "I didn't _think _so. Now _get back down on the ground._"

Richardson's eyes were wide as he did as he was told. "N-n-name your price," he stammered, shaken.

"Well… we were in the seven-digits in the beginning, but I like nine _much _better, and for ten digits I'll even buy your kids Christmas presents," he said smoothly. "I think my service, your life, and the life of your men is worth at least that."

Ten digits. He was talking _billions _in payment – _a billion dollars._ Mithril would never match that, in as many years – the most he would ever get would be ten _million_, and he would have to walk on water first to even ensure _that._ My stomach fell.

"Now let me guess… you've got a backup team stashed around the building in case something goes wrong, am I right?" he asked politely.

Richardson set his jaw. "Negative. My five men are it – this was supposed to be an in-and-out assignment."

"My favorite kind. Now back to those ten measly digits… does that sound _appropriate,_ given these circumstances?" he asked, but to read between the lines, the real question was, _Are you going to do this my way, or will I just have to _kill_ you?_

"It's negotiable," was the tight response.

"All right, gentlemen, the situation has changed," he declared, stance casual but gun at the ready. "You'll be taking your orders from _me, _and if you fuck up, or do anything that I _don't _like, I won't hesitate to shoot everyone here, yourselves and your targets included. So pick up your weapons, boys, and remember that these three mercenaries are all very dangerous. Grab each one of them, and I'll come by to collect their _many _weapons. Don't underestimate the Whispered, either. She doesn't get special treatment _just _yet."

His orders were followed to a T after a quick glance at Richardson, and I swallowed a groan of pain as he wrenched my arm behind my back. "You heard the man," he warned me. "One wrong move, and I'll paint the walls with your brain." I ground my teeth and said nothing.

"Richardson," he called conversationally. "You'll be following my orders as well, won't you?"

"Of course," he ground out, displeasure poorly masked.

"Then follow this one: get your hands _off _of him. Kashim, if you'd come this way."

"I'd rather see you _burn in hell _first," I snapped. The empty shock I felt was my fault, _entirely _my own fucking fault, because when in a million years would he actually be true to his word? And why did I think I'd be such an exception?

"Watch what you say to me; you might regret it when you're actually _in_ hell. Walk, and show me your hands. I don't want you getting creative with a pocket protector or anything."

"Do it, Sousuke," Mao gritted, struggling against her two captors. "He's got the upper hand for now."

I hesitated. "Major –"

"_Do _it," she snapped. I looked at her, wishing I could apologize for not killing him the moment I saw him at our door, but she shook her head faintly, as if reading my mind. "This isn't your fault, Sousuke," she added, a little less harsh.

I nodded and pulled my hand from over the still-bleeding wound in my stomach, carefully making sure that I didn't flinch or betray any of the pain I felt.

His smirk never dimmed, even as I glared murder at him. "Kashim." His voice was low and friendly. "It's been a few days."

"I've been busy," I nearly snarled.

"So I heard. Your blonde _idiot_ of a friend never told me if it was a boy or a girl – the baby, I mean," he added snidely. "Sorry, but I forgot cigars."

"You're going to pay for this," I threatened.

"Lower your voice, Kashim," he told me smoothly. "Because by the end of this, let's hope you want to _repay _me, rather than _make me back._ All right? Now keep your hands where I can see them, and don't try anything stupid. I'm going to talk _very _quietly, and you're going to listen. Got it?"

I nodded and kept my hands raised as he placed the gun over my heart. "Are you still efficient with an automatic?"

"Weapon?"

"No, Kashim, a _car_. Yes, an automatic weapon."

"Yes, I'm still efficient."

"Even injured?"

"I don't believe anything vital was hit," I lied. "There's no reason my performance should be affected."

His eyes narrowed. "Liar – there's too much blood for that to be a lucky miss. You're going to need that looked at, and soon – unless you'd like to die of internal bleeding, that is."

"It's not on my priorities list," I admitted, hand shaking as I desperately wished I could lower it to the injury.

"Here's what's going to happen," he informed me, still calm. "I have a gun in my jacket – I've _had _a gun in my jacket since you so kindly took me in. This gives me two guns, only one of which is visible. _You _are going to put your hands behind your back and walk over to Richardson and his minions, and I'm going to walk very close behind you. _Try _to look like you don't enjoy it, especially after I put the other gun in your hand. All right?"

I eyed him warily. "What do you want out of this? You know Mithril can't match what they've agreed to."

"Between you and me, they can't match it either. I'll take what I can get from Mithril, _if _you don't mind."

"You know MUSE will just top it."

Annoyance flashed behind his eyes. "Do you _want _me to let your friends die, the way I told them I would, or would you like some _help_? Your hero complex could get a lot of people killed, you know."

"How do I know you won't just betray us further down the line?" I demanded.

"I'm not going to double-cross you, Kashim. Not in this round, at least," he added with a sly grin. "Next time you and I are on opposite sides, I'm not helping you out. We still have one more match left in us – but this one isn't it. Don't worry, I plan on living another day to screw you over… just not today. Now _turn around_, before they get suspicious."

I did as ordered and put my hands behind my back, letting out a heavy breath to alleviate the pain. "Walk," he ordered, stepping up behind me. I swallowed a noise of pain as I began to walk forward, and at the movement, I felt the world tilt a little.

"Stay standing long enough to finish this," he said into my ear, and this time the spinning wasn't pain-induced. "Then you can pass out. I know it hurts."

I felt the reassuring weight of the gun in my hand, and realized that we could actually pull this off and make it out of here alive – because of _him_. Hell, wherever it was, just froze over.

"Okay, captives," he declared cheerfully, "on your knees. _All _of you – Kashim, that includes you."

I tensed – if I moved away from him, _someone _was bound to see that I was holding a gun –

"Careful," he said, hand on my shoulder, "I don't want you passing out and _missing _your team's executions." The hand on my shoulder guided me down, and he rearranged himself to keep the weapon hidden._ It's not humanly possible to imagine that we're working together_, I thought distantly. Meantime, the pain in my stomach was fading, and I repressed a shiver, neither of which were good signs.

It seemed like a very formal execution setting: the three of them knelt down in a straight line, each with guns to their heads, and Gauron and I faced them. Richardson stood off to the side, watching with a mix of respect and distrust. "What about the Whispered? We can't afford to kill_ her_ –"

"She's not going to die," Gauron sighed. "But what's the point in killing the other three if she doesn't get to see it?"

Richardson laughed. "No wonder you run at such a price. You're downright evil."

"You flatter me. Gentlemen, if you would."

The men behind Kurz and Melissa stepped forward and put their respective pistols to the back of their heads, waiting for the command.

"_Kashim_."

The moment he said my name, our weapons were out and bullets were flying – one, two, three, four, five down, not even half a clip used. Richardson fell last, but still within five seconds of our fire.

Melissa's face had blatant shock written all over it, but she wasn't slow to react. "Fucking _brilliant! _Jesus, I love when you pull shit like that, Sagara! Okay, everyone _out! _The van is outside, _move_, let's get out before people get down here!"

I began to push myself to my feet – but pain seared up into my chest, tinting my vision with blackness, and my feet slipped in a pool of my own blood. The freefall that followed was slow and dizzying, and I heard a select few curses from behind me once I hit the floor. That was when I felt someone help me to my feet as we half-ran for the door, and I couldn't hold off the blackness that consumed me then.


	7. An Advantage

_Squee, squee, squee! I found the slash! It was buried under all this plot, you see, and I decided to break from the fighting shit to establish some kind of slash. So I think we have one or two chapters focused on Sousuke and Gauron… um… _not _killing each other. I'm trying OMGsohard to keep them both in character… Sousuke, by the way, remains sky-high on painkillers the entire chapter._

_Poor thing. He doesn't stand a chance._

_You, my wonderful readers, ROCK! Squee! I pounce upon all of you! This concludes my Thanksgiving writing spree, lol… now I'm back to square one._

**Kaname**

"Where are we going?" Kurz demanded. "I need a destination!"

"_I _don't know, but we can't go back to the apartment," Melissa shot back.

"What about my place?" I offered, trying to calm them down.

"We can't go there," Melissa told me. "Your place was broken into this morning – that's the first place they'll go. Kurz, I'm going to try for enough of a signal to get ahold of the de Daanan, see if that's the end of it. I can't imagine that they won't send _more _people out – will they?"

"Richardson was a failure, and MUSE knows it," Gauron said calmly, from beside Sousuke's unconscious form. "If they'd seriously been determined to grab Chidori on the first round, they wouldn't have sent him. He's a joke. Or – he _was _a joke," he added smugly. "Now that they know what you're capable of, they'll send out bigger guns next time. This was just an experiment."

Melissa cursed, as only she could. "_Fuckers_. We need somewhere to lay low until Mithril can either pick us up, or take Kaname somewhere safe."

"What about Sousuke?" I asked hesitantly. "He needs a doctor."

Gauron was shaking his head. "He doesn't need a _doctor _– the bleeding is slowing down already, in case you didn't notice. But he's going to need stitches, and I can't exactly do that in a moving van. So. Wherever the hell you people decide to go, you'd better make it _fast_."

"_You're _going to give him stitches?" I repeated shrilly.

"Well would _you _like to do it, Miss Kaname?" he retorted. "I hope you're okay with all the blood – because there's enough for it to be messy, trust me. Have you ever administered stitches before?"

'I don't mean _I'll _do it," I snapped, "I just thought that we could take him to the hospital or something –"

"They most likely know that at least one of us was injured," he cut me off, "but yes, by all means – let's _do _go to a hospital, because I'm _sure _those aren't being watched like hawks right now. There were three other men in that school who Kashim and I didn't shoot, because they weren't down with us – but I can imagine they're reporting back to MUSE at this very minute. In small words that you're sure to understand: _no hospitals_."

I reddened. "Well _excuse _me, you –"

"You're excused."

"Hey, _lay off_," Kurz cut in. "Kaname, he's an asshole, but he's on our side – amazingly. I _really _doubt he'll let anything happen to Sousuke. Plus, neither me or Melissa are experienced enough with stitches… if we were, we'd do it ourselves."

I fixed him with a death glare. "Why is the world upside-down today?" I demanded. "Last I heard –" I spun on the hijacker-slash-kidnapper behind me. "-_You _were trying to kill us all! So what changed?"

"Well," Kurz muttered, "at least we can't say it's the money."

"Fortunately," Gauron snapped, "I'm not negotiating prices with _you_."

"_Not the point_," Melissa interrupted. "The point is, we've got a man down and nowhere to go, and at the moment, no way to get in touch with Kalinin, Tessa, or anyone who can get us _out _of this mess. So until we can get ahold of the de Daanan and get somewhere safe, we need to find a place to stop just long enough to stitch up Sousuke."

"Careful," Kurz gritted, "it's about to get a little bumpy."

At a glance, I could see the road ahead of us cease to be a _road,_ so much as a _path._ Kurz was getting us as far from the city as he could, as fast as possible. And, yes, bumpy was a very appropriate word.

Sousuke made a soft noise of pain, even though I was pretty sure he was still unconscious, and I turned to him immediately. "Kurz, slow _down­_," I insisted.

_Sousuke... _I reached out a hand to smooth hair from his face – only to have my wrist caught in midair.

"Don't touch him," Gauron said shortly.

A smart-ass response was on the tip of my tongue, but after looking at them for a long moment, anything I could have thought to say died on my tongue. I blinked. He didn't even spare me a glance; save for ensuring that I didn't lay a hand on Sousuke, I was certain that he didn't even know I was there. His free hand rested over the gash in Sousuke's stomach, and even though he was applying pressure, blood was seeping between his fingers and covering his hand. His other hand released my wrist, almost as an afterthought, and when Sousuke's body seized in obvious pain as the van jarred him back and forth, his hand reached and sought out the man beside him. I wasn't sure who was squeezing tighter; Sousuke, or Gauron.

…I was _totally _right.

My eyes met Kurz's clear blue in the rearview mirror, wide and a little shocked. He glanced past me in the mirror, to where I was pretty sure he could see Gauron and Sousuke, and then looked back at me. "Yeah," he sighed.

I threw another peek over my shoulder, just to make sure I wasn't seeing things. Gauron's face was devoid of expression – no worry, no irritation, no _nothing_, save for the faintest traces of a smirk.

I didn't like that. Not even a little bit.

**Gauron**

It was only _slightly_ annoying to put up with everyone hovering while I stitched that _idiot _up, and it would have proven distracting if I hadn't gotten used to tuning out the squawking. Although once I'd shot Kashim up with a heavy dose of morphine, I'd almost talked myself into dropping Chidori off with MUSE, free of charge.

Weber glanced at me. "How much morphine did you give him?"

"Enough to keep him on the moon for about six hours. He won't be in any condition for combat for at least three days, but he'll want to rush in with guns blazing the minute he's lucid again. So, I'm ensuring that he won't be lucid until late tonight, when he'll be ready to sleep again. And tomorrow, I'll juice him up again under the guise of knowing what's best for him."

He shook his head. "Make sure you don't get him hooked on that shit… all we need is Sousuke addicted to something illicit."

"Don't worry about that; it's going to take a lot more than just morphine to hook him. If I laced it with crack, maybe…"

His eyes narrowed. "Not funny."

"Well if he's not drugged out of his mind, you know he'll want to strike back. Today, while it wasn't a failure, wasn't a success, either. Kashim will do anything in his power to ensure Chidori's safety, and if it's the last thing he does… well, you know how he gets."

"Yeah, but do _you_?" he asked seriously.

_Very _nice segue there, blondie.

I raised my eyebrows. "I've known Kashim since you were in grade school, _boy_."

"I know," Weber replied calmly. "But he would have been in grade school, too."

"Well aren't you a mother hen; glad to know I've got someone to answer to. I'm going to safely assume that we're not talking about knowing how he'll react once he wakes up?"

"Yeah, that's a safe bet."

He glanced around, making sure the girls were still outside the van – Miss Kaname ended up having a weak stomach when it came to needles, and was probably throwing up at the moment. The vapid bitch was with her.

"When we're back at the de Daanan," he told me plainly, "you'll give all your information to Kalinin, and he'll relay it to us. Maybe that's not such a hot idea, and maybe we'd be better off with you on the battlefield with us, but the fact of the matter is that I don't want you around Sousuke anymore. You're fucking with him, and it's _really _starting to piss me off."

"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about."

"You know what, go ahead. Play fucking stupid, I don't give a shit. Just leave Sousuke and any history you two have _out _of this. He's got enough stress right now as it is – he doesn't need to put up with _your _shit, too."

I smirked. "So you heard?"

"Have I heard," he growled. "After the way you hovered over him today, it wouldn't matter whether Sousuke had told me himself or not! I think the only person who _doesn't _know is Melissa, and that's because she's trying to reconfigure that goddamn radio. Yeah, I know, and I _have _known since before you dropped your stupid, dying ass off at our door, and I know what you said to him on the de Daanan, and I know _that's _been fucking with him, too. Okay? I think you've done enough damage, so why don't you just leave him alone and jump in front of a stray bullet or something?"

"You heard that?" I asked, unable to squash my amusement.

"The whole fucking submarine heard it!"

"And you said that was 'fucking with him'?" I pressed, unable to help myself.

He clamped his mouth shut – metaphorically, at least. Literally would have been too lucky for me.

"I just think it was kind of shitty, is all," he said neutrally, as though he'd already revealed too much. "He was pretty young and impressionable when – uh – when all that was – when you were… okay, _you _know what I mean," he sighed. "Anyways. Those were kind of shitty parting words, you know?"

"That was the _point,_ genius," I drawled. "What fun is it if you tell your enemy that you hate him? He already knows that. He expects it. And in the end, that's what makes it okay to kill them – that's how he'd finally justify it to himself. 'He was an evil man and he hated me.' But plant the seed of doubt… plus, I didn't exactly plan on _either _of us surviving, if you want brutal honesty. It's sort of a poetic end, to go down together. We're an ugly, never-ending cycle, Kashim and I… either we both survive, or we don't. So far, neither of us are keen on dying, so I guess we'll just have to pick a date and agree on it, won't we?"

Weber eyed me suspiciously, wisely aware that the more personal the information, the more deliberately it was spoken. "So why say it at all, if he wasn't supposed to live to dwell on it? Did you mean it?"

"Well isn't _that _for me to know, and you not to."

_**888888**_

Weber didn't stop driving until we were well outside of Tokyo and any major city – we were close to the coast (which probably had something to do with their submarine picking them up at some point), and in the Godforsaken middle of nowhere. He and Mao agreed that it would be wisest if we pitched camp there for the night and waited for help to arrive, so they set Chidori to collecting firewood, and they proceeded to clear a spot for a fire and sleeping areas. Mao suggested making a covered area in case it rained, but the air was entirely too dry. It would have been a waste of her time and mine.

I, meantime, chose to sit and brood while Kashim fell rather vocally from one nightmare to the next. _Zaied,_ he said once. I smiled grimly. His precious Zaied would have survived, if _he_ hadn't shown up in Helmajistan and stubbornly refused to return _my_ warhead to _my_ companions. So I really couldn't be blamed for _that _particular casualty. Besides, I was only in the habit of killing my allies in extreme situations, and that wasn't one of them.

But back to the brooding.

This was delightfully akin to what Hell must be like – surrounded by Dudley Do-Right and his band of justice police. But there was proving to be more to the mystery of Kashim than I'd originally credited him with… for example, I really had expected him to shoot me the moment he saw me, or at least turned me in to Mithril without blinking, and told me to shove any bargain I had in mind up my ass (that, or I expected him to physically do that, rather than just _say _it).

But no, he didn't do any of that – much to the frustration of his team members, from what I understood. And instead of just leaving me to die, he played nurse and ended up saving my life.

And here we were now, roles reversed – he the patient, I the only one who could do anything for him. I helped him, and I helped save the lives of his friends, when he expected me to leave them to their enemies.

Funny how things were working out.

Well… either funny, or _very _convenient for me.

I liked to think it was the latter of the two.

It had definitely occurred to me that he'd consider himself in my debt, because that's just how he worked – and it had also occurred to me the many, many ways in which I could collect. But this was as delicate a situation as the last time: one wrong move, and any trust I might have gained would be lost, and I'd be back to square one (which would be _bad_).

But too much thought behind it brought up memories from before, and times much like this one, when he'd ended up at my door after a mission gone awry, covered in lacerations and bruises that he hadn't bothered to treat. Too much thought dredged up complications.

The same complications, in fact, that made me continue with our liaisons longer than I intended, and then vanish into the Toy Box project sooner than I'd planned on – thus ending said liaison abruptly. The base reason as to why I picked up and left so randomly was simply the fact that I was starting to wonder if I _should _leave. Even terrorists needed a holiday, and I was considering extending mine.

But the concept was ludicrous, and I chose a hasty and poorly-timed retreat almost immediately upon thinking of staying for any extended period.

Complications which, frankly, I didn't want to deal with at the moment.

No dwelling, then. Sounded like a plan. It would probably be a better idea if I didn't spend any time thinking about him.

Which proved hard to do, once his eyes snapped open, cloudy with medication, and fixed on me with a look that was _really _fucking hard not to dwell on.

"Morning, sunshine," I said smoothly.

"What…" his words were noticeably slurred. "What happened? Why do I feel… _morphine_," he realized slowly, answering his own question. "Why was I administered morphine?"

"You were in pain. Do you remember this morning at all?"

"I remember… Chidori. And a man – an operation. Someone came for her," he recalled hesitantly. "And I was… stabbed?"

"Not fatally, but isn't that just your luck."

"No extensive damage… just... morphine," he decided thickly. "That explains the drugged feeling."

"How do you feel?"

"Slow. My movements are unacceptably hindered; if an enemy were to engage, I wouldn't be able to defend myself or Miss Chidori," he decided, displeasure clearly written into his face. "How much morphine was I given?"

"Enough to keep you under until I'm satisfied that you won't rip my fine stitching job, which you'd better not do. So don't move, unless you want me to shoot you up with _more_."

"Stitch…" he began, hand falling to the bandages that encircled his stomach. "You gave me stitches?"

"Unless you'd have preferred Kaname to whip-stitch your stomach – and if you tear these up, I might let her do just that."

"When will the drugs wear off?"

"I don't plan on letting them wear off for at least another day," I said, trying to quell an amused smirk. Should have known he wouldn't like being drugged in the slightest. I couldn't blame him; I hated being under the illusion that something didn't hurt. Painkillers in any form or fashion were usually out of the question – pain was _real_, and the relief offered by morphine and other shit like that _wasn't_.

I'd have made a great cutter, if I'd bothered.

He tried to push himself up on his elbow, but I put a firm hand on his chest and pinned him down – if he hadn't been drugged into oblivion, his resistance might have been a little more noticeable, but as it was, he couldn't have fought back if he'd tried. "Down," I ordered. "Or didn't you believe me about the stitches?"

His skin was hot beneath my hand, most likely from a light fever. "I shouldn't be just lying here while everyone else is…" A hesitation. "Where _is _everyone else?"

"Out and about. Chidori is getting firewood, and your two teammates are clearing a livable area for the night. Mao says that the de Daanan is somewhere south of Korea, but can be here by morning. So we're waiting, and wisely avoiding the city. _Any _city, actually," I added thoughtfully. "It's the first _smart_ thing I've seen them do all day; here's to hoping I don't jinx that."

"We're… where are we?"

"Oceanfront property, middle of nowhere. Weber just drove until he ran out of road, and we're fairly certain no one was following us… or,_ he's _fairly certain, at least. Doesn't say much."

His eyes clouded further as his mind visibly drifted. "You assisted us back at the school."

"_Really_. I hadn't noticed." Given his random statement, I suspected he hadn't heard a single thing I'd said.

"Why would you help us?" he wondered. "We have no way of offering you _nearly _as much as MUSE was willing to offer…"

"You want to keep reminding me of that? Because I could change my mind _really _fast," I warned.

"You'll just do it anyways," he said hazily, trying to sit up again, and failing when I pushed him down onto his back.

"Would you stop trying to move? If you're determined to bust those stitches, I'll just do it _for _you. Jesus Christ."

"Why did you do it? We had the upper hand…"

"It _amused _me," I told him, cold humor clipping my tone. "If it had amused me at the time, I would have sold you out. Or I would have shot _all _of you and taken Chidori to the highest bidder. But at the time, it amused me to aide you, and it amuses me to _continue _aiding you. When it ceases to bring me personal satisfaction, I'll quit doing it. So as long as you keep me amused, _my Kashim_, I think your little group will be fine."

Color was flooding his face. "You mean it amuses you to leave us at the mercy of your _moods._"

"As far as I'm concerned, Kashim, you don't have much to worry about for a while – because this far, you've proven to be _very _amusing. You've always had a knack for that, actually…"

"That's in the past," he replied, doing his absolute best to sound as if he didn't care, and failing miserably. The thick slur to his tone didn't help any.

I was quiet for a long moment, palm flat on his chest. "Really? Because your heart is beating awfully fast, for something so far behind you."

"I'd prefer it if you didn't touch me," he said, voice clipped and official.

"Just making sure you don't try to move around too much," I assured him, and I could see his last nerve grate. Possibly the most amusing part of being abnormally rational was the way it absolutely drove him insane.

"You're a little warm," I added. "Probably a light fever… I expect your anxiety isn't helping much."

He glared at me through heavy-lidded eyes. "Any anxiety I might be experiencing is due entirely to the fact that the lives of my comrades and my charge currently rest in someone else's hands other than my own, made all the more dangerous by the fact that they are _your _hands, and your number one priority is yourself. _That _is the source of my anxiety, and I…"

I was completely ignoring him (or pretending to), busying myself instead with the bandages around his waist. Blood had begun to seep through – not a lot, but enough that it would dry and cake the gauze to the stitches, which would be very uncomfortable to remove if it wasn't changed out in time. I ran my hand down his stomach, to where the gauze was tied, and cut it with a pocket knife.

"What are you…" Shock resonated clearly in his voice now.

"You're going to need this changed," I explained, maddeningly patient. Frankly, I was starting to annoy _myself_ with all this bullshit _patience _and _rationale_ and so on. But I did manage to explain to him exactly what I was doing, without sounding like he was making me frustrated as hell. Who in the hell did a guy have to fuck in this place to get a break? Good Christ.

Kashim's eyes were closed tightly. "Just be quick about it," he finally conceded.

Quick I was, but it was hell to keep myself focused. _Oh, get it the hell over with_, I thought with annoyance. He obviously wasn't comfortable with the situation; every muscle in his body was tense, and I could see his hands tremble lightly. "Would you relax?" I snapped. "It's not like this is going to hurt worse than anything else that's happened, and I'm not going to _kill_ you. Christ."

"I'm far from worried about that," he said smartly.

I sighed and put my hand on his stomach. "Then I don't think you have anything to worry about."

It was when my hand touched his skin that he tensed further, and my eyebrows rose as I watched him. It took all of three seconds to read Kashim's tragically unguarded face.

_Aha._

"Or maybe," I suggested, assorted puzzle pieces clicking in my brain, "it really isn'tme _killing_ you in your weakened state that you're worried about… why, Kashim, are you worried that I'm going to take _advantage_ of you in your weakened state? I'm almost _flattered_."

He fixed me with a murderous glare, face reddening. "I wouldn't even _imagine _–"

"Don't get so worked up, Kashim, I'll do my best to be a gentleman," I chuckled, reaching across him and grabbing a bottle. I twisted the cap off, grinning with cruel amusement, and then unceremoniously dumped hydrogen peroxide directly over the stitching. He let out a yelp of surprise.

"What can I say," I confessed, utterly deadpan. "I'm a hopeless romantic."

Cloudy eyes glared at me, only half-aware that there was anything worth glaring over. I myself was basking in immense pride; looked like I had the upper hand after all. "One false move," he warned, "and I'll…"

"You'll what?" I chuckled. "Pass out? I'm positively _terrified_. Besides… don't you think it would be a _bit _more gratifying if you _wanted _it? Now sit up – _slowly_," I added. "Dry the stitches carefully, and then I'll put a bandage on it – unless you think you need your whole stomach wrapped again."

"A bandage will be sufficient," he decided, flinching a little as he tried to sit up.

I took hold of his shoulders gently and guided his tilting body. "Carefully, idiot," I said shortly. "Oh, yes, let's _rip _the fucking stitches, because I was _kidding _about letting that brat of a Whispered do them next time. It's a wonder you're not _dead_."

"No thanks to you," he shot back. It would have been more effective if he hadn't been borderline-stoned.

"I try."

As soon as he was upright, he shrugged me off sharply. "I'm perfectly capable, if you don't mind."

"I mind," I replied swiftly. "Now shut up."

He did as he was told, but the minute I'd pulled a clean, fresh bandage to place over the stitches, he snatched it from my hand and began to apply it with clumsy fingers. I watched in amusement as he wrestled with it – rarely did Kashim display any frustration, but his brain was still dulled my the morphine, and he just couldn't seem to make anything go his way.

I took the bandage from him with a long-suffering sigh, and again he looked ready to hit me. "Be still. I'd rather not punch you out to make sure this is done right, but I'm strangely comfortable with it, should the need arise. And if it should, I'll just leave you with your broken nose and other ailments."

If he'd been in a clearer state of mind, he would have hit me first. Or, in typical Kashim fashion, he would have taken the bandage back and refused any assistance.

But now his shoulders slumped, and he nodded – as if he were giving me permission to administer some life-threatening disease or something equally tragic. "Go on."

"_Thank_ you."

Dull eyes flashed with annoyance, but that was it. As far as I could tell, he was lost deep in thought. And I could see a definite boundary in his eyes… the question was… just how far could I push him? Because few things in the world have ever proven as amusing as Kashim when backed into a corner.

Especially an unarmed corner that he wasn't a hundred percent opposed to.

It was with slow, deliberate hands that I rubbed a gooey antibacterial substance across the still-raw stitches, and even more deliberate hands that pressed what was basically an oversized band-aide over it. I placed my hands on either side of him and arched an eyebrow. "All better?"

He slumped, visibly drained – part exhaustion, part stress, part morphine. "Do Mao and Weber have Chidori within range?"

"I'm assuming that if she's not here irritating me, then she _must _be with them."

"I shouldn't… close my eyes," he decided, even as his lids remained firmly down. "I need to remain alert in case of an attack."

"Because your team _needs _a drugged, injured liability on the battlefield. Yes, Kashim, by all means stay awake."

"All right."

I rolled my eyes. "Bright as usual. Go the fuck to sleep – unless you'd like me to jack you up with more painkillers?"

His eyes snapped open. "No more drugs –"

"I wasn't _serious_, idiot," I told him shortly. "Now shut up and lay down, would –"

To his credit, I didn't know he was considering it until I caught him halfway – a solid right hook aimed at my head. Broken bones were avoided only because I caught his fist in midair, gripping tightly and seeing him flinch with detached satisfaction.

"Better watch where you're throwing punches," I warned, yanking him down unmercifully and glaring directly into hazy, angry eyes. "Not just because it would have broken your fist – _titanium_, idiot – but I'm not _fond _of getting punched in the head. That kind of unnecessary violence doesn't amuse me, Kashim, and it would do you well," I said softly, barely an inch from his face, "to _remember _that."

_Too close_.

Almost closer. Just half a step, one light tug on his arm –

_Hell fucking ass no_.

And Kashim? I was going to pretend, for now, that the reason his eyes were closing slowly was because he was passing out, and that said reason also explained why he was considerably _closer _to me than he was three seconds ago – or two, or even –

The illusion of contact was fleeting – never-ending, but fleeting at the same time – and then I was forcing him down onto his back. I _did _value my life, and illusion or not, anything _real _and _tangible _would most likely land me with a bullet somewhere vital when I wasn't looking, the absolute minute he woke up with a clear head.

I stepped away from him and maneuvered out of the van, offering him the most chilling smile I possessed. "Sweet dreams, Kashim," I told him.

"You're a bastard," he said thickly, teetering on the edge of oblivion.

"You don't say."

"For all of it," he informed me. "Everything in Helmajistan."

Ah, the ramblings of someone trying to stay awake. "Sleep tight." Again, words laced with poison.

"For everything in Hong Kong," he added, voice fading.

"I told you, you'd regret not shooting me one day."

"I don't."

And suddenly, a morphine addiction wasn't sounding so bad after all.

This could most _definitely _be used to my advantage.


	8. A Break

_Wow, it's been awhile… sorry, filler chapter, the next one will be interesting! I promise!_

_Jeez, for a shameless valley girl, I have a hard time writing girly shit. Bah. _

_And happy holidays!_

**Kaname**

Sousuke fell in and out of consciousness over the next day, and when the de Daanan _finally_ came for us, he was taken to the medical wing to recover fully. Melissa and the doctors assured me he'd be okay, but… it was still entirely stressful to wonder if and when Sousuke would be all right again. Usually it was _me _in trouble, or _me _with problems, and Sousuke was the one who could fix everything… in his own special way, which included disaster and mayhem.

But now it was Sousuke who was hurting, and who couldn't take care of himself… and more than anything, I wished I could do something to help him, _anything _to help him. But I couldn't. I wasn't a doctor, and I knew how much pressure he was under… so if he wanted to sleep for a few days, I couldn't really blame him. _I _wanted to sleep for a few days, for that matter. And maybe when I woke up, I'd realize this was all a bad dream…

It was nice to see Tessa again, though.

She had requested my presence in her quarters at noon on the second day – the entire first day was spent in the war room with Kalinin, as Kurz, Melissa, and Gauron detailed the ambush at school. I didn't talk much – I preferred to listen anyways, and I couldn't have contributed much useful information in the first place. ("Oh… yeah, those guys. They totally had guns, and they wanted to kill everyone and poke around in my brain. Is that normal? -Oh, wait! _You _did that once! I totally forgot, what with you being all chummy with Sousuke and –")

Definitely a good idea for me to listen.

Gauron was explaining something technical to Kalinin, who sat as far from him as humanly possible and kept a small gun clearly displayed on the table. The meaning was clear: _I dare you to give me an excuse._ Even though I had no idea what they were talking about, some of the technical terms… things about the LAMDA driver… they all seemed to tickle my brain somehow, like I already knew what they were going to say.

Or maybe I was just crazy.

I didn't say a whole lot of anything that whole day, save to Kurz, when he asked if I was doing okay. I just shrugged and nodded: "I guess it couldn't be much worse, huh?"

He gave me a weary grin. "I'm an optimist. It can _always _be worse."

That must have been the tone for the whole day.

_**888888**_

I knew why Tessa wanted to 'talk.' And suddenly, even though I'd been denying anything with Sousuke ever since she'd brought it up, I was wishing distantly that I had something worth bragging about.

She was smiling when she came into the room. "Great news," she declared happily, "Sgt. Sagara will be waking up sometime this evening, and he'll be released as soon as he can walk!"

A sigh swept out of my lungs. "Thank _God_," I admitted with relief. "What did the doctors say?"

"They said he got really lucky – or, as lucky as a stabbed person can be," she added, a little unsteadily, "and the fact that he was stitched up so quickly only made it better for him in the long run. The wound isn't infected or anything, and so he'll be back in action by tomorrow, if I know him." She winked at that.

My smile wavered. "Yeah… _great _news, that. So glad he can go out and maybe get stabbed _again_."

Tessa sat down beside me, her cheerful smile fading as well. "I understand from Lt. Commander Kalinin that you've had a hard couple of days behind you."

I nodded wearily and accepted the coffee she handed me. "It's been _hell_. But with Sousuke, I should be used to that."

"Trouble follows him like a lost puppy," she agreed sadly.

"_Something _sure follows him," I grumbled. "I can't believe you guys are _working _with that creep. I don't care what Sousuke says, I don't trust him. I mean, yeah, he saved everyone the other day and all, did it for a lot less money… but Sousuke _always _told me that the guy was only ever out for himself. What makes this so different – I mean, how do you know that he won't stab you guys in the back this time?"

She was frowning – with this kind of stress, she'd have permanent frown lines before she was twenty. "We don't have any guarantees," she admitted. "We only have his word, and the Lt. Commander doesn't think it's even worth anything. I don't know what to make of the situation – first he tries to hurt you, then he wipes out Sousuke's team in Helmajistan single-handedly, hijacks my submarine, tries to kill _everyone_… it's not adding up, Miss Kaname. I don't know what's in it for him, and so I can't guarantee that he'll stay true to his word for any length of time. He may just move on when he's tired of us."

"I think…"

She brightened. "I completely forgot to ask what you thought! After all, you've been with him the last few days."

I bit my lip. "I… okay, I don't know _anything_ for sure, and I don't even know if I should be telling you this, 'cause I could be way, totally, unbelievably wrong. So you have to _promise _me that you won't say _anything_. You're not just Sousuke's captain, you're his friend. So… can I trust you to keep a secret?"

Tessa's eyes were the size of saucers, and it was times like that when I could believe she was really just sixteen. "Of course, Miss Chidori. This… this isn't something that could get anyone hurt, though – is it? Because as captain, I have a responsibility to my crew's safety before their privacy, and –"

"No, no," I assured her, "it's nothing like that! It's… something from a long time ago, I think. I… kind of think… I mean, I got the _feeling_… when I see Sousuke around Gauron… that maybe – you know. They had some kind of _history _together," I said uneasily. "When we were leaving the school the other day… I mean, he wouldn't let _anyone _near Sousuke. It was like… it was sorta like he was protecting him," I mused. "And even though Sousuke won't say anything to me about it, I can tell there's some stuff he's been hiding from me. I mean, he spent like _three nights _at my apartment because he didn't want to be around _him_ anymore, and… it all kind of fits, you know?"

"Are you _sure_?" Tessa exclaimed. "Kaname – that's a pretty big speculation, and there's no way of knowing the truth for sure, if Sgt. Sagara won't say anything…"

"Oh, there's a way to find out," I said dryly. "We could ask Gauron, but that would mean we'd actually have to _talk _to him, which I don't wanna do. And Kurz – whatever's going on, he knows about it. He's been the one telling me all day, 'Leave them alone about it, it's complicated' and stuff like that. Like I can't handle the truth or something!" I steamed. "And I don't think Melissa even _suspects _anything. I just wish I knew what the hell was going on."

Gray eyes were wide. "When you say that – um – _something_ is – was! – going on with them, what do you mean?"

"I mean – well – _you _know," I said helplessly. "_Something_. I, uh, well –"

"Talking about me?" came Kurz's cheery voice from the door. "Hope it's all nice!"

"_Kurz!_" I screeched, at the same time Tessa screeched, "_Sergeant Weber!_" with equal surprise.

"Ladies," he greeted. "Can I join in? I _love _gossip."

"Did you hear us?" demanded Tessa, blushing crimson.

"Nah, just heard Miss Kaname looking for the right word to describe my eyes," he said dreamily. "By the way, 'deep and seductive' both work," he added.

I stared. "…Right."

"So," he said brightly, moving on, "whatcha talkin' about?"

We exchanged wary glances. "…Stuff?" I offered weakly.

He let the door close and pulled up a chair. "Sorry about intruding, but Melissa said that if I didn't leave her alone, she was going to throw me off the flight hatch a thousand feet down, and that didn't seem like a great idea to me. So, I decided to see how you girls were, and offer you my delightful company."

A few blinks. "Oh. Well – um – thank you?" said Tessa uncertainly.

"So! Gossip!" he decided. "Spill, girls. You're always talking about _something._"

"Well – actually, Sergeant," Tessa began, bravery a little _too _evident in her voice, "I have a question for you."

"Go for it."

"Miss Kaname and I were just discussing the current situation –"

"_Tessa - !_" I exclaimed.

"-And as your captain," she continued, "I – um – I command to know – "

_Oh, she's great at this_, I thought, half-amused and half mortified.

"If there's – uhm – _something_ – or WAS something," she corrected herself, "going on between Sergeant Sagara and –"

"_Kaname!_" he exclaimed.

"Huh?" we both stuttered.

"You told her?" he demanded.

"Well – I mean – I don't even know, and – dammit, Kurz, you don't understand the draw of girl talk!" I wailed. "It always comes out, and – well – I want to know! After the other day, and – so maybe it's none of my business, but – okay, Tessa has a right to know, 'cause she's the _captain!_" At that, Tessa nodded vigorously.

"She's right," came her agreement.

He glanced between the two of us. "I – look, maybe you should ask… oh hell, he'd never tell you two, and it's not exactly like you can go and ask _him_… shit. So this is girl talk?" he asked unhappily. "When four beautiful eyes and four _huge _– um – _brains_ – coerce something out of you?"

We nodded, and I felt a surge of triumph. He was too easy.

"Look, if _anything_ was going on with them," Kurz began, "it was a _long _time ago. Way before he met you, Miss Kaname. And he always says it was the dumbest thing he ever did, but – dude, he was pretty blind to the way things were before that, you know? He – not that I think it was the _smartest _idea ever, or the best choice – but I guess in situations like those – only… _fuck,_ you can't tell him I told you guys," he groaned. "I mean, I didn't even tell Melissa, and she's been shitting kittens over this whole thing since the beginning." He shook his head. "But you already figured it out, didn't you, Kaname?"

I nodded. "Yeah – I mean, it was kind of hard _not _to, when we left the school… I didn't know what. And – what the hell? Why didn't I know any of that?"

"'Cause he didn't want you to?" he offered. "Gotta admit, that's not something you go telling _everyone._ He's trying, you know? Feels like he really fucked everything… like all this is his fault, just for letting the guy live. He thinks that he isn't capable of killing him when it comes right down to it. Me? I think that the only reason Sousuke has survived that many encounters with him is _because _of all that stuff – I mean, no one else has faced him down and come out on top. No one but Sousuke… and maybe that's why. But he's not exactly the kiss-and-tell type, you know, so it was a wonder he even _told _me. Indirectly. Sort of."

We stared at him for a minute before he finally sighed and offered a sheepish shrug. "So I kind of _made_ him tell me… no biggie or anything…"

I shook my head. "That's just _great,_ Kurz. Did he actually _say _it, or did you make an educated guess?"

"Oh, no. There was totally no way you could have mistaken that for anything else," he said confidently. "Besides – you saw how they are, Miss Kaname. No educated guessing needed there."

I nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, true."

"So – you mean he _did_?" Tessa asked, wide-eyed.

Kurz nodded. "Yep. Don't go telling him that you know or anything… he might freak out, 'cause he's been pretty testy lately… plus, I don't think he needs that kind of stress on top of having to put up with Gauron again, what with everyone knowing and wondering if it's gonna happen again – which, uh, it's _not_, and I _totally _don't wonder that or anything, but… I mean, you know he's worried about that and all."

I glanced at Tessa. "So. How's it feel to know we both dug a gay guy?"

She shook her head. "It's not that… not as much as the _who_. I mean… wow. I would never have pegged him…"

I nodded in agreement. "You're telling me."

Kurz looked a little pained. "You won't tell him that I told you guys, right?"

We both shook our heads quickly. "Not a word!"

He seemed to relax for a moment, then slumped over. "Jeez, I'm toast," he groaned. "Sousuke's gonna know! I mean – every time those two have had it out, we all used to think they were gonna _kill _each other, and now? We're all just going to stand there and sell tickets!"

I sighed. "Look, Kurz, the last few times they've 'had it out,' they _were _trying to kill each other… it's hard to do much else in an AS, right? Anyways, they've been acting _weird_ lately, and I think we're _allowed _to act like we suspect something!"

Which, by the way, was exactly when I heard a nurse calling down the hallway outside our door – "Sergeant Sagara, you're really in no condition to –"

"I'm fine," was the quiet response, but he sounded a little testy.

We all exchanged glances, and the bolted out the door, only to catch a good glimpse of Sousuke's retreating back. "Sousuke?" I called.

He didn't even slow down.

About twenty feet down the hallway was where Gauron was restricted – one room that he was only allowed to leave when accompanied by someone Kalinin appointed. Guards posted on either end of the hallway had orders to shoot him if he stepped out of the room, so he would spend his time just inside the doorway, possibly to prove that he would test every inch of that boundary. That particular spot in the corridor was always tense.

It was also right where Sousuke was storming. He was clad only in regulation pants and boots, and his hair was out in a few new directions – bed head, I guess – and he didn't seem to notice that with Kurz, Tessa, and myself, there were five of us following after him.

Tessa waved off the two nurses, but that didn't slow Sousuke in the slightest. Before we could catch up to him, he'd stormed into Gauron's holding cell and dragged him into the hallway, slamming him against the wall without breaking stride. "You manipulative, thoughtless _fool!_" he exploded. "You endangered the lives of my teammates and my charge, you _deliberately _left me too drugged to protect her myself, you risked _everyone's _lives at Jindai because _you felt like it _– I won't _wait _for a direct order next time you decide to do that, and I'll kill you personally!"

"Are you _still _brooding about what happened with Richardson?" he asked boredly. "I had it under control, Kashim. Deal with it."

"You're a ward of the state right now," Sousuke snarled, angrier that I'd seen him in a long time, "and you're not _supposed _to have _anything _under control – let alone four other human lives! That was dangerous, thoughtless, and _stupid _of you to gamble with us like that!"

"You can't win anything if you don't put something out there," Gauron said dangerously. "Now is that _really _what you're upset about, Kashim? Or could you still be upset about the after-effects of morphine, and how well it loosens your tongue?"

That seemed to cut through Sousuke's angry haze, and the tension seeped from his body slowly as he let out a long breath. "I'll leave you to your business," he said, his tone very controlled.

We all glanced at each other as the two glared for a moment, waiting for Sousuke to turn and walk away. After what seemed like forever, he began to turn…

Only to spin back and catch the terrorist completely off-guard with a well-placed punch, sending him sprawling onto the deck.

"Sousuke!" exclaimed Kurz, as he and Tessa both fell into military routine.

"Sergeant, _don't _–" Tessa began.

But it was too late. Gauron picked himself up off the ground, wiping a bit of blood away and smirking at Sousuke. "Feel better, my Kashim?" he growled. "Did that help with anything? Did it get rid of all the unwanted –"

"_Stop_," he commanded, and the other man complied with a smile. "You _absolutely _took advantage of me in a weakened state of mind, and I do _not _want you to get any ideas in your –"

"I took advantage of you?" he repeated. "Let's _talk_, Kashim."

And at that, he'd grabbed Sousuke just as roughly as he himself had been grabbed, and dragged him into the small room, slamming the door behind him.

Tessa made a move to follow, but Kurz slowed her down. "Wait, Captain," he suggested. "He's already been checked – no weapons anywhere. And that room is absolutely clean, no furniture or anything, except maybe a chair and a table. But the table is anchored to the floor," he added quickly. "I don't think they'll be killing each other. Who knows? Maybe they'll beat the shit out of each other and be done with it."

Tessa was fretting. "They seemed awfully upset, Sergeant…"

"FCS, madame Captain," he explained.

She was blank. "What's… um… FCS?"

He gestured her in closer and whispered something in her ear, and gray eyes widened suddenly. "What on _earth _is that?" she shrieked, blushing crimson.

"Exactly what it sounds like," he explained. "Means Sousuke is a little different with him than – well – anyone else, because he _was _the first one Sousuke was ever with. Sousuke's just more likely to fly off the handle with him, since there's still really charged emotions and all."

She frowned. "You'll have to find a different way to explain that, Sergeant. That kind of language is _not _acceptable for someone as highly regarded as you."

"Well it really is a syndrome some people get," he argued, "and for all anyone else knows, I was talking about a rooster!"

I just stared. "Anyone want to fill me in?"

"_No_," Tessa said firmly. "Trust me, Miss Kaname. Let's just leave it at the fact that this is Sgt. Sagara's personal business."

I stared. "Uh… okay?"

I wasn't comforted any when I heard a thud, and then the doorknob clicked as it was locked from the inside.


	9. A 'Complication'

_Contrary to popular belief, I haven't been abducted by aliens. Unfortunately, no one got ahold of David Duchoveny in time. My apologies – I slacked, and I'm sorry, but I'm getting back in the groove slowly! _Eternal _thanks to my faithful readers – you are ALL the best. For real._

_OH! Um. Slash. OOC, if you're going _exactly _by the manga and the anime, but _I'm _having fun with it. Especially now that they're locked in a room together. HEE._

**Sousuke**

I hit the wall unceremoniously and flinched a little bit, still weakened with painkillers and feeling distinctly like I'd been _stabbed_. I had a righteously indignant lecture on the tip of my tongue, but Gauron spoke first.

"I don't know how you got the impression that I was taking _advantage _of you," he sneered, "but trust me – if I'd taken advantage of you, you would have _known _it. And don't think you wouldn't have _enjoyed _it," he added warningly. "Or have you forgotten all the good times? I think a few of those constituted as being _taken advantage _of."

"Stop bringing that up," I snapped. "It was in the past."

"I'll stop saying it if you'll stop pretending like it doesn't count now that time has passed," he shot back, advancing on me. "I hate to burst your bubble, Kashim, but it _did _happen. Frequently."

"I'm not _denying_ any of it," I argued. "I'm merely saying it was a mistake that I've accepted responsibility for, and it _won't _be happening again. Don't busy yourself with ensuring that I don't forget, because that won't happen. But don't pretend that it could happen again, either."

He rolled his eyes. "The next time I have some sort of pointless drama, remind me to call you. You're certainly a buzz-kill, aren't you?"

"I suppose so."

Silence stretched awkwardly – or, _I _was awkward. I was fairly certain that he was incapable of letting himself feel awkward, frightened, or anything else unpleasant, present situation included.

I cleared my throat. "So where does that leave us?" I asked, clipped and professional.

His eyebrows rose. "All honesty?"

"Ideally."

"I think it leaves us locked in a room with at least five people standing outside wondering what's going on, with a certain amount of mounting sexual tension making it a little crowded in here."

My brain skipped like a broken record. "We're not locked in here."

The doorknob clicked as he remedied that. "Aren't we?"

"Unlock the door," I ordered, trying to keep any uncertainty out of my voice.

"You're not the one giving orders in here, Kashim," he said, voice pitched low.

Retreat and abandonment of my pride seemed ideal at the moment, and would have worked well if there hadn't been a wall between myself and my escape. "Wait a second – there are no mounting tensions of _any_ sort in –"

My body connected solidly with the wall again, not as hard this time, but hard enough that pain shot through my side. "Like it or not, Kashim," he growled, "this isn't going to _vanish_ just because it gets in the way of your boring daily routine. So maybe _you _should quit deluding yourself."

"I'm not the one –"

"Shut up."

His mouth silenced any further protests, swift and firm and –

Well.

There were no excuses for my actions. What I _should _have done was shove him off of me and walk away – that was the _right _thing to do, and if it had been anyone else, that's exactly what I would have done.

But it _wasn't _anyone else, and so instead of doing what I knew was right, and smart, all rational thought flew out the window (along with my honor, my reservations, and my pride). It might have been the fact that I hadn't had any _real _contact with anyone in so very long – an awkward kiss with that girl at school, but nothing like this. Nothing this raw and unyielding, nothing like him. Maybe that was the entire problem... it was him.

So instead of doing the right thing by pushing him away, I grabbed a fistful of his shirt and pulled him down to me, any resistance in my brain driven out by his scent, his taste, his hands ghosting down my sides and gripping my waist, as though ensuring I didn't get away. Thoughtlessly, foolishly, I let myself drown in him, dragged down in sensation as he slid powerful arms around me and nearly crushed me to him.

I don't know how long it was like that – and frankly, I'm grateful. But it couldn't last, and thanks to a pounding on the door, it _didn't_. "Sergeant?" called one of the soldiers outside. "Are you all right in there? The captain asked us to check on you –"

I pulled away long enough to gasp out a, "Fine, everything's under control, I'll be out in just a –" I fell short for a moment as his mouth descended on mine again – whether he did it on his own or I pulled him down again, I wasn't sure. " – Just a minute," I finished, drawing in a much-needed breath and shuddering as his lips ran down my neck, biting at the exposed skin lightly.

"Do you need any help in there, sir?" one of them offered.

"NO. I – I mean, no thank you, I'm almost –"

"Sergeant, is this door _locked_?"

"N-no – I mean, yes it is, but – don't –" I tilted my head back, giving his mouth complete access to my throat and shivering as he took full advantage of the position. "Enough," I hissed, but my hands gripped his shoulders in a way that didn't exactly scream _enough_. "I – I have to –"

"Have to what?" he purred against my ear.

Even if the words wouldn't come, I knew what it was I had to do: get _out _of there. Now.

With what willpower I could muster, I pushed him away from me, breath coming in ragged bursts as I tried to get control of myself. His eyes locked on mine, shining with amusement but darkened with passion and heat and a thousand other things I didn't want to think about.

I didn't need to _say _anything – it would have been pointless to try and speak, and the sly curl at the corner of his mouth showed that he was just _waiting _for me to run. To my credit, I didn't run out of the room.

But I did get out of there as fast as possible.

I could feel his cocky grin burning into the back of my head as I unlocked the door and stepped into the cool corridor, and I slammed the door behind me and resorted to dashing down the hall.

"Sergeant!" one of the men called. "The captain wants to see you in her quarters –"

"Tell her I'll be there shortly," I said over my shoulder. My first priority was a shower.

A _cold _one.

_**88888**_

**Kaname**

Tessa bit her lip and ignored the hot tea that she was gripping in her hand. "This is bad, Miss Kaname," she said anxiously. "This is _really _bad."

I hesitated. "Yeah, it is," I finally agreed.

"I hadn't… I hadn't really _understood _what you were talking about until – well, just now," she admitted. "It was one thing to be involved with him back in the beginning, but with all he's seen and done since then… I honestly thought he knew better. Sergeant Sagara, I mean," she added quickly.

"Maybe we're jumping to conclusions," I suggested. "I mean – maybe they beat each other up or something. They've _always _had something to argue about, every time I've seen them around each other. Although... it's kind of _obvious_ that they have something hanging between them, you know?"

"He should know better," Tessa reiterated. "He _does _know better. I'm sure of it."

"What do you think is taking him so long?" I fretted.

"One of the men said he was going to shower before he came in," she said absently, still lost in thought.

"He's not still with Gauron, right?"

"No," she assured me.

We were quiet for a long moment. "He's not going to get in trouble if something _is _going on, right?" I asked uneasily.

She bit her lip harder, and I could see blood blossom. "That depends on who finds out. On this ship, _I _have jurisdiction and _I _decide who gets in trouble. That's why Sergeant Sagara isn't in trouble for letting Gauron survive this long in the first place. As long as he's under my command, he won't get in any _real _trouble. But if any of my superiors found out… I don't know if you know, but they've been looking for an excuse to pull Sousuke off of his current assignment, which is guarding you, and have him work with Arbalest so that the LAMDA driver can be further understood."

"I knew about that," I said grimly. "Sousuke mentioned it earlier last week."

"If anyone outside of this submarine found out about _any _sort of indiscretions between Sousuke – it would be bad," she worried. "I'm not sure if they've run into a situation quite like this, but at the very least, he would be quietly reassigned, or even discharged."

"What's the worst-case scenario?"

"He's put in prison for treason," she groaned. "Mithril doesn't have any single country that it swears allegiance to, but if people discovered that Sergeant Sagara was illicitly involved with a terrorist as high-profile as Gauron, they would react swiftly and harshly. He would be dishonorably discharged, and if they suspected that he was passing along information, even if it was accidental, he would be jailed for treason and possibly exiled."

"Exiled?" I repeated. "To where?"

"To a correctional facility down in Antarctica," she almost whispered. "It would either be life in prison for treason, or a twenty-year exile to –"

"SOUSUKE!" I shrieked the absolute moment I saw him standing in the doorway. "I – uh – how long have you been there?"

He stepped into the room, jaw set and face unusually pale. "Long enough."

Tessa looked positively miserable. "Sergeant… I assume you heard what we were talking about."

"I did, madame Captain."

"I didn't want to burden you with all of that," she wailed unhappily. "I – was just – _we _were just worried. And we might have been jumping to conclusions," she added hopefully.

"We _were _just being paranoid, right?" I pressed.

His eyes lowered to the ground. "I would rather not divulge any personal information when it comes to him," he said, words carefully chosen. "But I can assure you both that everything is under control."

"Do you _promise_?" Tessa nearly begged.

"I can't make any promises," he admitted, "because I'm only half of the problem. But I _can_ promise that I'll try to do my absolute best, should the need arise."

He was fidgeting with the collar of his uniform – why was he messing with it? I could see… _something_… peeking between his fingers, but I wasn't quite sure of what I was seeing.

Then it hit me.

Oh. My _God_. He _totally _had – okay, _maybe _it was a bruise on his neck, but I was pretty sure I could spot a hickey when I saw one. Had Tessa seen? She _couldn't _have – she hadn't said anything about it – oh, she _absolutely _could not see it. No way in hell. If she noticed, she would… ooh. I didn't want to think of what she'd do.

A little desperately, I faked a huge yawn. "Man, all this talk is depressing me," I said brightly. "And I'm totally worn out. You know? Sousuke, do you think you could escort me to my quarters?"

"I – um. I suppose," he said uncertainly.

"Great," I declared. "Let's _go_. Tessa, I'll be back later, but right now I've gotta get some shut-eye." At that, I grabbed Sousuke by the arm, not the one that was trying to cover the mark on his neck, and dragged him out of the room.

"I hadn't realized you were so tired," Sousuke was saying stupidly. "It was very inconsiderate of Kurz to drag you around the ship all morning instead of –"

_WHACK_.

"YOU'RE AN IDIOT!" I exploded. "WHAT IF TESSA HAD SEEN THAT THING? _THAT DOESN'T LOOK LIKE YOU'RE CONTROLLING THE SITUATION!_"

"What thing?"

"Don't play stupid with me," I warned, taking another angry swipe at him with my sandal. "You've got a hickey on your stupid neck the size of my _fist_, and you didn't even think to try and cover it up! God," I grumbled, sliding my shoe back on and ransacking my purse. "Here, put this on," I sighed, handing him a compact of make-up. "It's concealer. It won't cover that thing up entirely, but it won't jump out like it is right now."

Sousuke stared at the little compact. "I'm not sure I understand."

I poked his neck, and he jumped away from the touch. "There. You have a really big, really _obvious_ hickey on your neck that you _didn't _have before."

His hand flew to the spot. "I – I just knew it tingled, I didn't know that you could _see _anything."

That warranted another hard swing with my purse. "_Idiot_. Here, look – I'm going to put some concealer over it so that it's not as obvious. I'm assuming you got that within the last half-hour?"

He didn't meet my glare. "Yes."

I patted the powder over his skin carefully, making sure to blend as I went. "Go somewhere and put ice on it. Like, now. If you do it in time, it will help the mark fade faster, but if you don't do it soon enough, you can just _have _my stupid concealer. Is there anything else I should know about?" I nearly threatened.

"No, Miss Chidori, that's about it."

I sighed. "I won't tell anyone. I promise. But – will you promise to be honest with me about what's going on with him? He's _dangerous_, Sousuke. I didn't think I had to _remind _you."

He cringed. "I'd hoped to keep everyone out of this, but… I can't tell you what's going on, because even I don't know. Today was the first incident recently, however."

"And the last?" I pressed.

He hesitated. "If I have anything to do with it, then yes. But it will be difficult, as I'm only half of the problem."

"I've heard. Will you be honest if anything else does happen?"

"I'll try."

I offered a weak smile and handed him the compact. "Here. You need this more than I do."

Sousuke nodded swiftly. "Thank you, Miss Chidori."

"Kaname."

"Very well then, Miss Kaname."

I sighed, without irritation. "I think you do that on purpose. I'm going to take a nap and pretend like this was all a bad dream. As for you – go ice that thing. I'll see you at dinner?"

"I believe so."

And so we went our separate ways… only I didn't go directly to my room. Instead, I detoured down a hallway I'd been in not too much earlier that day.

The guards were still posted at either end of the corridor, weapons at the ready and this time, they had communicators that went right to the control room. Anything that happened would be caught on tape.

I flashed the soldiers a bright smile. "I've just got one thing I have to do really quick," I assured them. "Then I'll be out of your hair."

"You shouldn't go down there unarmed," one of the guys suggested.

"So come with me. I'm just going to turn around and walk right back the way I came."

Whether they followed me immediately or not was beyond me; I made a beeline for the makeshift holding cell and didn't even break stride when Gauron saw me coming.

What he _didn't _see coming was the blow I landed, square in the face. It wasn't anything impressive, and I didn't even draw any blood, but it surprised the son of a bitch, and that's all I was after.

"Isn't this just the season," he snapped, kept in his place only by the automatic weapons that peeked over my shoulders. "I'm getting sick of people punching me."

"Then stop being a jackhole," I shot back. Then, just low enough that I knew he heard me, "If you hurt him again – if you _touch _him – I'll totally make that last punch look like a handshake."

And at that, I turned on my heel and stomped off to my own room, too wired and too exhausted to nap. Someone would pay for that.


	10. A Mission

_I'm alive! Now for all those of you who were hedging bets… I accept PayPal. :D Anyways, thanks for continuing to read and review – the support does wonders for me. And for any who wondered… no, it's slash. It's definitely slash. I think Kaname and Sousuke are cute and all for a canon couple, but where's the fun in canon? So, yes, it will be a dominant slash pairing._

_PS: For those who don't know, "BFE" stands for "butt-fucking Egypt", or "the middle of absolute nowhere." Only Mao, dude._

**8888888**

**Sousuke**

Chidori and I sat for a long time in silence, poking at our food. She would glance at me every now and then, but she never said anything. My mind was a million miles away – or perhaps only a thousand, in the icy plains of Antarctica, where my future probably lay.

I wouldn't have been surprised in the least if that was how things ended. Even if my superiors never discovered that things weren't as quiet as I led them to believe, I could still be punished severely if word got out about past indiscretions. As long as the information ended at Tessa, I was relatively safe. But after the disaster in Helmajistan, all Mithril needed was an excuse to get rid of me: if I was involved with the enemy, in any form or fashion, I was obviously passing along information. There could be no other answer in such a situation, or at least not one that mattered.

While her timing was usually terribly inappropriate, Kaname managed to politely break the stretching silence with a sigh. "I'm sorry I yelled at you earlier."

"Apology accepted."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that."

She bit her lip. "I'm just worried, Sousuke."

"I understand that."

"You know _why _I'm worried, right?" she pressed. "I mean, you get that I'm not being a huge, anal bitch just because it's fun, don't you? You're playing with fire, Sousuke. And when I say fire, I mean like those fireworks that you try to shoot off, but they don't launch, and so they blow up in your face and you smell like sulfur for a week."

"I think you're reading too much into it," I told her mildly. "I understand that you don't want me to place myself in any kind of danger."

"Damn right I don't want that," she agreed vehemently. "And I think that anywhere within a hundred feet of that creep is dangerous. So, by association, I think you should stay way far away from him."

"It would probably be safer," I agreed wryly. "But the irony lies in the fact that you remain safer as long as we have his information, and your safety takes precedence over mine."

"Well, _I _don't feel safer," she grumbled. "I keep waiting for him to pull another fast one and kill us all."

"The upside," I told her in a neutral voice, "is that he can only kill us once."

She stared at me for a moment, then grinned. "Sousuke, was that a _joke_?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

She looked on the verge of squealing. "Sure, sure. Don't worry, I won't tell anyone."

But she was beaming proudly, and I had the feeling she was lying, as well.

**888888**

I took my seat before Kalinin grimly, the light feeling I was left with after dinner gone entirely. "Sergeant Sagara reporting, sir."

He nodded in acknowledgement. "We have a dilemna, Sergeant. You've noticed, I take it, that MUSE has gone on the offensive in the case of Miss Chidori."

"Yes, sir." It would be hard for me not to notice.

"We do not tolerate terrorism, Sergeant, nor do we tolerate the means they will use to seek that end, therefore we must also go on the offensive. Our primary objective at this point is to eliminate their main base of operations."

"I understand."

"That, however, is where we run into a problem," he continued. "MUSE anticipates an attack at any given time, and so their base is constantly changing locations. If we're to have any hope of launching a successful attack, we need to know where they're going to be before they get there. Your assignment is to find their next location and report back to me."

Silence stretched as he sifted through a file, more likely bringing down his temper than actually reading. "That," he added, "is where he comes into play."

I didn't need to know who he was talking about; Gauron was seated to my left and stretched out as though the metal chair beneath him was made of the finest leather.

"There is a man in Moscow whose ties to MUSE run very deep – he arranges the facilities they operate out of, all across the globe, and sees to it that they have adequate equipment to work with. So far, he has proven invaluable to their operation," Kalinin explained, careful to ignore the man beside me lest he lose his temper.

"His name is Raskowitz," Gauron added, "and he so happened to be on my soccer team twenty-five years ago. I also happened to post his bail once, and he owes me a favor."

"A favor," I repeated blankly.

"The two of you will be departing for Moscow at 0800 tomorrow to pay this man a visit," Kalinin said neutrally. "You will use whatever means necessary to learn the next location of MUSE's central operations, and we will launch an offensive operation as soon as we have that information."

"What about Chidori?" I pressed, effectively keeping any dawning shock at the revelation to myself.

"Sergeant Weber and Major Mao will accompany her back to Tokyo and act as her bodyguards until you return. We have one of our own posing as her double in Hong Kong to draw MUSE's attention away from her actual location at the moment, so she will be perfectly safe until you return."

I sighed, biting back all the arguments in my brain as they formed and settled for a "Yes, sir."

"Ready for a vacation, Kashim?" Gauron asked dryly. "I could sure use some nice, cold Russian air – and let's hope the KGB doesn't get my number while we're there. I burned a few bridges awhile back, and they seem the type to hold grudges…"

"You," Kalinin said with what sounded like masked relief, "are excused. Guards are waiting at the door to escort you back to your quarters."

"It was a nice chat, Andrey," he said cheerfully. "Let's be sure to do it again sometime, eh?"

"Good day," was the cold response.

Once he was out of the room, I found myself releasing a bated breath. "Sir, may I speak freely?"

"You may."

"I don't like the idea of trusting him in any way, or trusting anyone who he trusts," I began.

"Nor do I, but we've run comprehensive scans on every aspect of this mission, his contact included. Everything checks out against his story, and as much as I hate to say it, he is the only one who can call this favor in."

"It must have been a big favor," I muttered wryly.

"The man you're going to see was imprisoned ten years ago in the United States, awaiting trial for several misdemeanors. Once they had him behind bars," he explained, "they started to dig deeper into his past and see what they could bring up for future indictments. Had they held him long enough, he would have been charged with embezzlement, espionage, murder, grand-scale technology theft, and a slew of other things. Considering the nature of the murders he was involved in, he would have certainly received the death penalty."

"But his bail was met before they could discover any of these things?" I guessed.

"Correct. Once he made bail, he left the country immediately, had several identity changes that were each very difficult to trace, and underwent several reconstructive surgeries so that he hardly could have been connected to the man wanted in America. He has been living out his life on the fringe of society, aiding organizations from the CIA and Mithril to Al Quaeda. Not so many years ago, he aided Mithril in the collapse of the communist hold over Berlin. Speaking financially, he's done well for himself. I understand he has a wife now, as well."

"All thanks to Gauron," I realized.

"More than you can imagine," he agreed darkly. "I believe his wife was one of Gauron's hostages in an operation for the KGB – her father was of great influence in Russia, and he was trying to swing the vote in a presidential election. She and Raskowitz met through him, while she was looking down the barrel of his gun. Somehow, they formed a rather unorthodox bond, and married not long after her father was told she had been killed."

"And he hasn't called in this favor yet?" I wondered.

"Not as far as he says."

"So now we're taking his word when he gives it."

"At this point," he said grimly, "we have no other choice. I know you would rather not be involved in this mission at all, especially given the fact that it will just be the two of you, but you are the only person I trust when it comes to dealing with him. You and I alone comprehend what he is capable of, and for his companion to lack that awareness would prove catastrophic to the mission. I don't like it either, Sergeant," he admitted. "I believe that when it comes to you, he is prone to act recklessly and with little to no regard for the lives of others. I also worry that your own judgment may be impaired, but believe me when I tell you I'm left with _no other options_. I would go myself," he continued, "but our mutual dislike would inevitably cause the mission to end in disaster. I trust you, Sergeant Sagara, to appreciate the gravity of this assignment and keep your head about you, even in the most unorthodox of circumstances."

"I'll do my best, sir," I promised. "I'm –" I swallowed around a suddenly dry throat. "I'm no longer as idealistic as I once was, nor am I as susceptible to him as before. I've learned that when he is underestimated, people _will _die. I lost my team to him, sir," I said quietly. "No matter what arises over the course of this mission, I can't forget that, and I can't forgive him."

In that moment, Kalinin seemed very, very old. "Sometimes," he began quietly, sounding less like a military commander than I'd ever heard, "I wish that you hadn't seen the things you've seen in your short years. I believe you could have grown up to be a very happy person, if you'd been dealt a better hand."

For a moment I found myself speechless. "Sir, I –" I wasn't sure what to say.

He cleared his throat and turned back to the thick file before him, the persona replaced by the man I'd known since childhood – born to lead and control. "That will be all, Sergeant. Dress warmly; Russian winters have often been the fall of the mighty."

**88888888**

"You've gotto be _joking_," Melissa said flatly. "Kalinin is actually sending you out to the middle of BFE with him?"

"We're going to Moscow," I told her darkly. "It's one of the largest cities in the –"

"You know what I mean, Sousuke," she snapped. "As far as I'm concerned, you're in enemy territory with the enemy and absolutely no backup. And all of this for some friend of a friend who _says _he can call in a favor? I can't believe this. First we're worried that you're going to get court-marshaled over letting the son of a bitch live, and now you're going to Russia to get information from one of his guys?"

"The fact is, Gauron has had access to information about Mithril that has proven catastrophic before, and if he considers Raskowitz to be an informant of his caliber –"

"Yeah, yeah, I get it," she grumbled. "It's like drug dealers. You bust a big dealer, only to find out that they get their drugs from an even _bigger _dealer, and so on."

"Only I believe we're near the top of the food chain," I agreed.

"Which is a hundred percent more dangerous," Kurz put in. "Technically, he's not getting anything out of this, so his information might be a little vague."

"From what I can gather, they sound almost like friends."

Mao shook her head. "You know he doesn't trust anyone that far, Sousuke. And how could he? – He's the biggest sell-out I've ever had the displeasure of meeting, and I wonder sometimes if even _he _doesn't trust himself. Can't love anyone if you don't love yourself – same goes for trust. If you know you'd sell out your own grandmother for the right price, who's to say that everyone else isn't like that?"

I hesitated. "I don't like it either, Major. I don't like it at all."

"Well, then I'm glad we at least agree on that," she scowled.

"If there was someone else going with you, I might be a little more okay with it," Kurz sighed. "Maybe. _Maybe._ But this alone shit is what I've got a problem with. Dude, I don't even trust him when Melissa and I are there, and we at least have _some _grasp of what he's capable of. You two out there on your own? Hell, no."

I studied the mission report with an intensity that I didn't feel. "It's not an ideal situation," I said vaguely.

"That's an understatement," Kurz scoffed. "And on top of that, doesn't Kalinin _know _why you shouldn't – "

I glanced up sharply. "That's enough, Kurz," I interrupted shortly.

Melissa's fist slammed down onto the report, so close to my face that I could fell a breeze. "Enough of this dodgy bullshit," she snapped. "I think it's about time I got some answers, Sergeant. You know exactly what I'm talking about, so I'm going to ask you a yes-or-no question: Are you? Truthfully."

A direct order from Melissa was a direct order, and I didn't give myself a chance to falter. "No."

"Did you?"

"Yes."

"When?"

"Hey, babe, that's not exactly yes or no…" Kurz began, only to stop when she fixed him with a death glare. "Right. So, uh, ignore me."

"Not a problem. When, Sergeant?"

"On leave in Hong Kong."

She nodded. "And it ended?"

"Yes."

"Is that why you relocated to Chidori's apartment?"

"Yes."

"And when he kidnapped Chidori?"

"Nothing. It was well over."

"Any occurrences lately?"

"The situation is under control," I replied neutrally.

"THAT WASN'T A YES OR NO ANSWER."

"Doesn't that automatically answer your question?" asked Kurz dryly.

"Shut up, Kurz," she snapped.

"It'd automatically answer the question if you asked me," he countered.

"Yeah, well, let's not get you and Sousuke confused, all right?" she said sourly.

"Well if something's happened," he pressed, "then Kalinin doesn't know, because if he did, he wouldn't send you two off together."

"It's not a difficult mission," I told him acidly. "Just a complicated one. The mission report states that security is very tight around Raskowitz, and he trusts no one, so there _can't _be anyone else from Mithril nearby. It's already a stretch go get me in as it is. The only danger comes if he gets any reason to distrust us, and as long as we're the only ones in the area, we should be relatively safe. The problem is that outsiders tend to stick out once you get closer to the underground, and so we can't afford to have anyone else noticed. It's that simple."

Kurz spoke to the rhythm of his head pounding against the table. "I don't have any questions about your ability to complete the mission, okay? I don't like you there unprotected from him. It's that simple, Sousuke. Jesus."

"Stop that," Melissa told him absently. "You can't afford to waste those brain cells."

He sat back in his chair and scowled. "This is a bad idea," he grumbled. "That's all I have to say, is it's _bad_."

"I won't even be around him until we arrive in Moscow," I told him. "He'll be in a restricted part of the aircraft until we land."

"Yeah, and then he's set free _on Moscow,_' he finished. "You know, you're usually the one pointing this stuff out, Sousuke…"

"My judgment," I said tightly, "is not impaired. I am completely aware of the hazards of this mission – more aware, in fact, than anyone else on this submarine. That is why I was chosen for this mission, and no one else. I've already discussed this with Kalinin, who is acutely aware of our past, and yet _still _decided to send us. If he trusts me to complete the mission despite the circumstances, then I'd hope the two of you could at least pretend to extend the same courtesy."

"Yeah, but then we wouldn't be your friends," said Kurz dismissively. "If we didn't bug the shit outta you, then who would?"

I shook my head. They might not know it, but I appreciated the energy they put into – well, into me.

Even if it was circumstantially unnecessary.

**88888**

_Oh… and by the way, I believe so far that I'm the _only _GxS writer. Trust me, I've looked like mad. There was one other story, but I think it got flamed off the site. Sad face_

_So… if anyone knows of anyone else, or is personally hiding fiction… let me know!_


	11. A Friend

_Dude, I've gone off the deep end.It's forever long, sorry about that._

**_99999_**

I could feel it the moment we stepped into Raskowitz's territory.

Most of Moscow was busy and uninterested in the business of two strangers, only one of whom really looked out-of-place, but once we crossed the street into the business section of the city, I could feel someone watching us now and again. It didn't seem like the same person each time, so I suspected we were being tag-teamed. I didn't dare risk a glance over my shoulder, but I could catch a glimpse of something every time we passed a reflective window.

"Don't look too hard," Gauron said, deliberately casual with his warning. "They know we've spotted them, and we know that they know, but they won't break the cardinal rule of shadowing by just approaching us on the street."

"Who are they?" I asked tightly.

"Who do you think they are? Nicholas has eyes all over this city, and this is his part of town."

"The business district?" I said skeptically.

"What part of Moscow did you see him running, the projects?" he scoffed. "You'll get much further if you've got the rich in your pocket rather than a bunch of thieves and vandals trying to pick it."

"So what do you propose we do about them?" I asked, trying not to sound as frigid as I felt.

A lazy smirk. "That's for me to know."

I steamed silently. The entire afternoon had been like this – making our way into the heart of Moscow from the fringes of the city, while he ensured that I was just one or two steps behind him when it came to what was going on, so by then I was more than a little incensed about it.

"How were we spotted?" I wondered, stifling my irritation.

"You stick out like a sore thumb," was the dry response. "You're Asian, you don't speak a word of Russian, you glare at everyone who makes the mistake of looking at you, and you're armed. Plus, your coat isn't nearly heavy enough for this weather, and anyone who gets a good look at it can tell."

"We're both conspicuous," I snapped. "I highly doubt my _coat_ blew our cover."

"Then didn't you just answer your own question?"

For the millionth time, I refrained from answering. I knew Gauron was deliberately baiting me, because somehow it seemed to help his day pass quicker when I was annoyed, but it was starting to take a toll on me.

It wasn't in the mission statement to shoot him in the middle of traffic. The only problem was that he was also aware of that technicality.

"And no, I'm not nearly as conspicuous as you are," he added. "I don't want people to notice me, therefore they don't."

"And your coat is more practical than mine," I agreed, deadpan.

His eyes narrowed at the remark. "That's a nice scarf, Kashim," he snarked. "Is it new? It's perfect for this kind of weather. But wasn't it a little warm on the de Daanan for it yesterday?"

"It was a gift," I gritted. "From Chidori."

"And that made it colder on the submarine_ how_? Hell froze over?"

The irrational desire to yell, "Shut up!" nearly overtook me, but I jammed my (very, very cold) hands down into my pockets and stifled the urge. I also had to stifle the urge to remind him that it was his fault that I had to wear such a ridiculous article of clothing on the submarine in the first place. Miss Chidori alone knew why the scarf was a necessity; everyone else thought that I wore it so that she wouldn't think I didn't like it. Her temper came in handy sometimes – when it wasn't turned on me.

There was a very significant complication with this particular mission: I had a comfort zone I liked to stay in when under pressure. Unless it was related to Miss Chidori (or her sizeable wrath), I usually only felt great deals of anxiety when on a mission such as this one. The problem was that I usually kept company in those situations that I trusted without hesitation, whether I liked them or not. As long as that was the case, I could usually operate with a rational mind, even in the most extreme situations.

This was not my comfort zone.

Since we'd arrived in the city, I'd been edgy, ill-tempered, and altogether difficult to be around, so it had only fanned the flame when he slipped those little barbs into conversation. My patience was worn paper-thin by that point, just adding to the stresses that came with my implicit distrust of everything he did and said.

As if reading my irritated thoughts, he changed the subject. "They're only following us for now – if they suspect we're meeting someone first, they'll get a little nosier to see what our business is. But it wouldn't surprise me if they knew by now who we were and where we were going, so they'll follow us as far as they need to go, then they'll just leave us to our business."

"I don't feel that's any reason to be less concerned."

"Oh, it's definitely not," he agreed jovially. "They're mafia scum. But right now, they're being rather discreet, so I doubt they want any trouble."

"And these are Raskowitz's men?"

"More than likely. Once we get to his pad, they'll clear out and we'll be in his hands."

"That doesn't comfort me, either."

"As long as you don't give him a reason to give you trouble, he's not bad," was the vague response. "And he's good for his word – that's the only reason this can happen. I don't trust very many people."

"An old soccer friend?" I recalled wryly.

"So to speak. Some of the younger ones in my unit tried to liven things up by playing soccer when I was a kid, and he happened to be pretty good. Almost better than me."

Snide comments were flooding my mind unbidden, possibly more at once than I'd ever had in my life, but I didn't dare say one of them. I instead settled for the safe question of, "How much farther is Raskowitz?"

"_Are we there yet_?" he sneered. "It's another block, I think. I'm pretty sure I've seen two or three familiar faces, so we've got to be close, although I'm not sure that's a good thing."

"Why?" I asked, fairly sure I wasn't going to like the answer.

"Oh… I burned a few bridges awhile back, made a few enemies back in the nineties… you know how it goes. While we're on the topic –" For just a moment, he looked mildly discontent. "His boys don't play nice. They have a rule book, but it's not one that you'd see somewhere like Mithril. They won't hesitate to give you trouble just for being young or different, and if you say or do anything stupid, _someone _will pull a gun and shoot you. So for Christ's sake, don't talk unless I tell you to talk. And stay as close to me as you possibly can, because even if some of those boys don't know exactly who I am, they know I can cause a lot more trouble than they can, and might leave you alone for it. Just don't give me a reason to actually cause any."

"I'll do my best to remain discreet."

"Try not to look like such a self-righteous prick while you're at it," he added. "The high-and-mighty act annoys people."

I ignored him, again. "Should I assume an alternate identity while we're here?"

"I wouldn't bother; you shouldn't tell anyone enough about yourself to need another identity. Don't lie… just don't tell the truth, either," he suggested. "And not one word about Mithril. No doubt Nick already knows, but don't advertise it. The Justice League hasn't exactly made many friends out here."

Almost out of nowhere, someone in a long coat slammed into me and just kept on going. But as he passed, I heard in my ear, "This building, pal."

We both froze for a moment before spinning around and looking for the culprit, but he'd disappeared into the steady stream of pedestrians around us. "Should we pursue him?" I wondered aloud, muscles tensing.

"Nah, he's not important. But I guess it's this one on the left," he shrugged. "Seems I don't remember Moscow as clearly as I thought I did. This part," he added, "is when you shut up and stay at my side no matter what."

"Indiscreet," I repeated sullenly as we ascended from the sidewalk. "And my painfully obvious coat?"

He flashed me a sly grin and stopped to adjust my coat collar at the door, too close to have been _innocently _fixing my collar. "It's all in how you wear it, Kashim."

I shrugged him off sharply. "Keep your hands to yourself," I told him shortly, a stiff wind cooling my suddenly hot face.

A few pairs of eyes fixed on us as we entered the building, my words bouncing uncomfortably off of the polished marble walls. Almost immediately, he took hold of my arm. "Shut up," he said tensely, "and don't look at anyone. Unless, of course, you'd like to blow this thing sky-high."

I debated arguing, but instead closed my mouth and looked everywhere but directly at people. His hand stayed firm on my arm as we came to the middle of the lobby – at a glance, the building was just an office building, but every now and then I'd see a person who looked far too shady to be a paper-pusher. "Is this building just a cover?" I asked, voice low.

He shook his head. "This is a legit company, if I remember right. Nicholas knows the CEO, and when he was looking for a decent headquarters awhile back, this came along. It offers a good front – he's listed as a beneficiary and board member under another name, and if the place was ever raided, I doubt they'd be able to find anything on him that couldn't be explained away. He's meticulous, if nothing else."

I was only paying partial attention; the first floor was setting off my every defensive instinct, and it was all I could do not to take hold of my weapon, if only for reassurance. At a first glance nothing seemed amiss, but I could feel eyes on me with every step I took, and one of the men who walked past me made no secret of looking me up and down, taking in the hip-holster, the bulge in the back of my coat that signaled an automatic weapon, and the Kevlar vest beneath my layers that only a professional would notice. Despite my extensive measures to ensure discretion, I felt uncomfortably exposed to the world. Hallways had guards at each corner, the information desk looked to be made of a bullet-proof substance that might have been fired upon at some point, if I was right about the marks I saw, cameras hung from the ceiling and caught every person who entered and left the building, and I suspected there was no corner that could not be seen from every angle. Every step we made was being watched, recorded, and filed in case we did anything suspicious.

We stepped onto the elevator with no problems, and various people entered and exited from floor to floor who paid us no attention, but the moment we emerged on the seventh floor, I could feel the atmosphere of the building shift monumentally. This was Raskowitz's floor, and everyone here did as he told them. I could sense it immediately, and took what comfort I could force upon myself from the hand on my arm.

The secretary gave us one look – or, more appropriately, gave Gauron one look and waved him on. "He's in his office," she told him without sparing me a glance. "He'll see you now."

"Thanks, Elsie," he said cheerfully. I couldn't say I shared the sentiment.

Once I saw the man stationed at the entrance to Raskowitz's office, I knew I'd been right to leave my guard up. I was seasoned enough to know trouble when I saw it, and the sight of him set the hairs on the back of my neck on edge.

The room seemed to chill as we came to a stop. Gauron flashed the man a smile that clearly said, _All I really want right now is an excuse to knock your teeth right through your skull. So please, fuck with me. _I almost felt sorry for the stranger, to be the target of a dislike I wouldn't wish on anyone, but I also suspected that somehow or another, he was asking for it. I myself had attempted to kill Gauron no less than four times, and I still hadn't warranted that kind of scorching hatred.

"You heard her, Mike," he remarked conversationally, when he failed to step out of our way. "I'm _expected_."

He was rewarded with a sneering once-over. "My goodness, it looks like they're delivering the trash instead of picking it up."

"You're a funny one, did anyone ever tell you that?" was the cold response. "I'll ask you once, and nicely, to get out of my way."

"Really?" the man swooned, German accent thick. "You'd do that for me?"

"Oh, I'll do a lot for you," he replied in a sweet voice that promised torture, agony, and possibly a televised death. "Just give me a reason."

"I'd like a reason, as well," the man responded, his manner darkening. "I'd like a reason why I should not only let you pass, but let you live."

_Fantastic, _I realized. _He just can't stop making enemies long enough to make this easy, can he?_

"Because if you think for even a second that you have a chance," Gauron said calmly, "I'll do to you what I did to Estrada and make sure you have no hopes of reproducing ever again, and then I'll fix the fact that you've already spawned once. Now would you mind stepping out of my way and letting me go about my business, or am I going to have to make this get ugly?"

The man before us made no attempt to move. Instead, his eyes narrowed, his shoulders squared, and his gaze fell on…

Me.

"Who's the boy?" he asked, his tone giving me unpleasant chills.

A squeeze to my elbow, signaling silence. "None of your concern."

"Tell me your name, young man," he invited, speaking to me as though I were five.

I squared my jaw. "Kashim," I said coldly, deciding to drop my real name in case he traced me back to Mithril later.

"An interesting name for a Japanese boy," he remarked. "How did you manage to find such unfortunate company as him?"

I ignored the question, which worked out well, because he wasn't done. "I'm sure your mother warned you about taking candy from strangers," he goaded, searching my face for any sign of what I was thinking.

"Some people just never learn," was Gauron's snide response. I shot him a quick glance as he released his hold on me, and his eyebrows rose just slightly – it translated to, _Well? Are you going to do anything, or aren't you?_

"What a sad place the world has come to," Michael sneered, "when even children can be lured by the promise of power and money. And what a sad thing you've turned into when it's a _boy _who tags at your heels mindlessly. I might be doing him as much of a favor as I'm doing society by running you through with lead."

A sigh from beside me, which I took as my cue. In a flash, the gun was out of its holster and at Michael's chin, digging sharply into his flesh as my other hand took a fistful of his shirt and slammed him roughly into the door behind him. "Just so you don't forget," I said softly, "I'm no child, I'm far from helpless, and if for any reason I had it in my mind to truly kill this man, I assure you it would have happened by now. Since you don't seem to have any intention of moving aside for us," I continued, lifting him off the ground a good four inches, "I'll do you the favor of moving you myself, and I'll disturb you no further." And at that, I slid the gun back into its holster and used both hands to grab the lapels of his jacket and toss him mercilessly to the ground, well away from the door. "I don't have any quarrel with you," I added, glancing at him with disdain, "but if you give me any trouble beyond this point, I will have no problem shooting you."

He made no move to stop our entry after that, or even pick himself up off the ground, and Gauron's low laughter followed us into Raskowitz's office and lingered in my ears long after it stopped.

**88888**

Nicholas Raskowitz made no immediate impression on me by just looking at him – he was the most ordinary, unremarkable man I'd laid eyes on in a long time, and his very plain features simply made him seem all the more bland. But I recalled Kalinin's words about him: he'd had extensive and numerous surgeries to disguise himself and remain separate from the crimes that followed him. I hadn't seen a picture of him before the plastic surgery, but I suspected that the face looking at me now was in no way similar to it anymore.

He was out of his seat the moment he recognized Gauron, crossing the room in three strides for a firm handshake. "Look at you, walking in as though you didn't just rough up my bodyguard," he grinned. His Japanese was flawless, but I could tell from his accent that it wasn't his first language, nor was Russian… I just couldn't place it. "If it were anyone else but you, I'd be dead now."

"Not my fault you employ a waste of space like that one," he responded, returning the handshake.

"You've been working on your tact, haven't you?"

"It wasn't me who did the roughing, by the way," he added. "That distinction goes to my companion."

A studious gaze. "Well, he does look the type," Raskowitz agreed, turning to me. "Call me Nicholas," he greeted me, grabbing my hand as well, a bit to my surprise.

I hesitated, unsure as to whether it was safe to tell him my own name. At the pause, Gauron stepped in. "He's the strong, silent type, Kashim is," he explained.

"I could tell," the other man agreed. "You're certainly an odd pair – and not just because I think this is the only time I haven't seen you work alone."

"What can I say," was his way of changing the subject.

A moment passed as Raskowitz studied me thoughtfully. "Kashim…" he mused, looking me over. "_Kashim. _Were you ever in Afghanistan?" he asked me.

I froze, taken aback. "I – I was," I said stupidly. "But it was a long time ago."

"Ten years, am I right?" he prodded.

"I suppose it was," I agreed warily.

"Have a seat," he offered absently, still looking at me carefully as we followed his instructions. "You're Anzu's boy, aren't you?" he said finally.

I blanched at the mention of my mother. "I am," I admitted reluctantly.

"I met you once, many years ago," he told me. "You couldn't have been more than eight or nine at the time. It's hard to forget an oddity like you – a Japanese boy caught up in the middle of all that mess. You look just like your father."

_Nine years old… if not younger_, I thought once I realized I had no recollection of this man whatsoever. Trivial as it was, I was already disadvantaged by the fact that he knew something about me, but I knew virtually nothing about him that I couldn't find in his dossier. "I'm afraid I don't remember," I told him uneasily.

"Yes, it was a very hectic time," he agreed. "I understand they died not too long after that." His attention shifted from me immediately, and I felt the subject change before he even spoke – to my private relief. "So," Raskowitz began anew, "I hear you gave MUSE your notice?"

"In some form or fashion," Gauron shrugged, "I suppose it could be taken that way."

"Well at least Estrada lived to tell the tale. You must have been in a good mood that day."

"Actually," he said dryly, "I was just in a hurry."

"Ah, the life of a traitor: always in the fast lane, aren't you?"

"Unlike some people, I just haven't grown sedentary," he smirked. "Fancy office, 'guards' at your door, a secretary? Seems to me like someone is getting lost in the good life."

A slight smile. "So I've settled down considerably. Hardly a crime, though. It was just too hard to pick up and leave Sonja behind every time there was a new adventure, so I've chosen to stay behind the scenes, more or less, and work from a central location."

"It can't hurt that MUSE pays a king's ransom for the services you offer. It's been hell trying to pin down their exact location, and by the time it's pinned, they've moved on." A shark's smile. "You've been making my job awfully hard, Nick."

"Was I supposed to mail you their schedule?" was the absent response. "I'm sorry, I must not have gotten the memo."

"I'm sure that can be fixed."

"Yes, I seem to remember that this meeting is all about getting you the necessary information on MUSE's whereabouts," Raskowitz commented, sifting through a stack of papers. "I did a little more than that – as I'm their go-to man, I have a list of the next few stops they'll be making over the coming months that I'm sure you'll find helpful."

"Glad to see you don't have problems with sharing their information so liberally."

"Old habits die hard," the other man agreed. "Looks like practice makes permanent, at the very least. Would either of you like anything to drink?" he added. "I have an entire bar stocked next door."

I declined with a shake of my head, but Gauron took the offer. "Sake, if you've got it."

"Cold?"

"Sure."

Raskowitz looked at me. "Are you sure you don't want anything? I don't entertain guests often, and it would be a pleasure to get you something."

I shifted in my seat uncomfortably. "I suppose I'll have water," I decided.

He nodded and pushed a button on the phone. "Elsie, I need cold sake and just a glass of water for the young man, if you don't mind."

"Of course, sir," came the businesslike reply.

"Let's talk trivial first," Raskowitz instructed. "Talk to me about business – slow? Busy? Paying well? I haven't done anything of _interest _in a long time; I'm painfully out of the loop."

"I can't say much for diversity," Gauron smirked, "since all anyone's after these days are the Whispered. But it keeps me busy, so who am I to complain? This one, though," he added, gesturing at me, "makes it hard to keep a day job."

"Yes, I hear you're with Mithril," he said in my direction.

"Affirmative," I replied.

"It shows," he grinned slyly. "You've got the tutelage of Andrey Kalinin written all over you."

"That was cheap," Gauron scolded. "Let's keep it above the belt, hmm?"

"I suppose that _was_ a little harsh," he agreed with as chilling a smile as I'd ever seen. "But it means you've got discipline in spades, doesn't it?"

"…Yes?" I half-suggested, wishing desperately that I could stay out of the conversation. The less I had to say, the better. In spite of the niceties and the general friendly vibe this man was trying to give me, my skin crawled with some darker suspicion. Though appearing at ease, I could see my companion was deliberately and discreetly on his guard as well.

"This just makes the oil-and-water pairing I see before me all the more interesting," he remarked thoughtfully. "I think you owe me a story, don't you?" His eyes gleamed. "You owe me one or two, I think. I've been hearing some _very _interesting things – first selling out the KGB, then this massive smuggling job in Helmajistan, not to mention some rather un-businesslike whispers coming from a man in Hong –"

"Reading the gossip column, Nick? I thought you were better than that," he nearly sneered.

"Who said anything about gossip?" his informant replied haughtily. "I have some very interesting things coming my way from some very reliable sources when it comes to you – keeping up with your activities, and all," he added. "It comes in handy, as you know. I say we negotiate an information swap – I'll give you my sources if you'll clear up some of the rather odd things I've been hearing. I've been sorely lacking a good story, and if I know you, you _always _have a –"

"Maybe later," was Gauron's dismissive answer and effective end to the conversation. "I'd like to keep it to business for the moment, if you don't mind. Now as far as I know – and I think I know pretty far – MUSE has done the most extensive research on the Whispered and made the most progress with what they've learned. Last I checked, they were working with genetic engineering and advanced biological warfare, plus a few petty drugs for the black market junkies."

"Drugs, humm? I think I heard something about their chemical experiments," Raskowitz confirmed. "My sources tell me that they've been fine-tuning an airborne dehydrant that will be ready for mass production within the next six months – nasty weapon, that one. Causes a chain reaction in the human body that burns out any water in the system. I hear it's a terrible way to die."

"It's almost painful to watch."

There was a spark of curiosity in Raskowitz's face at the comment. "I also hear that they're introducing new drugs to the streets – something new for the masses to develop an addiction to," he remarked blandly. "I imagine they're making a killing on the uppers and the hallucinogens."

"It's good income to keep them funded," was the casual response. "Not to mention the countries paying them for top-of-the-line weaponry. They had a deal struck with the United States for a little while there, but I'm not sure if that business arrangement has been entirely closed down yet or not."

"It wouldn't surprise me if they're still buying, but doing it through phony agencies and private buyers rather than the U.S. government," he agreed.

"So how's the missus?" Gauron asked, effectively changing the subject as the sake and my glass (more like pint) of water arrived.

"She's… well, she's doing well enough," he said vaguely, and I didn't miss the flash behind his eyes. That would warrant an investigation, no doubt. "She hasn't been feeling good lately."

"Pity. She was a real firecracker."

"She still is. I don't mean to preach…" he began, which I took to mean he most certainly did mean to preach, "but you just haven't lived until you're happy with someone. I know you value your solitude, but it fills a void you never even knew existed when you reach that point with someone. It makes you realize just how terribly fleeting happiness is," he added distantly, his eyes far away. "So… temporary. Fragile. It makes the best of us bitter to know it doesn't last forever."

"You don't say," he remarked, utterly devoid of tone or expression.

A shrug. "I can't imagine a day without Sonja," he said calmly. "Even when I'm at work, I can't really focus without her. She's like a drug," he explained. "Terrible for me – or at least for the line of work I pursue – but if I'm not with her, it turns into the most painful withdrawal I've ever experienced. Giving up cigarettes was like taking out the trash in comparison – I don't know what I'm going to do without her."

Gauron sat forward keenly. "You make it sound like she's getting out sometime soon."

"In a way, she is," he murmured, and there was no hidden agenda to his tone. For one moment, he sounded…

He sounded like a man who had nothing left.

It chilled me deeper than the deceptive smile he offered so freely.

"I'm only going to tell you this because you were with us in the beginning," he sighed. "And you shouldn't breathe a word of this to another soul. But I only met her because you called me in on the operation last-minute, so I have myself deluded into thinking that you might care."

There was no answer, just expectant silence. I hid behind another drink of water and felt the first tickle of anxiety in my stomach.

"Back in the beginning," Raskowitz explained, his voice carefully controlled, "we had a… pregnancy scare, I suppose. It was right after we got married. Her family has a history of complications with labor – that's how her mother died – and so we debated whether or not we should go through with it. We hadn't even honeymooned," he added absently, "and we were already worried about a family. I thought we should wait out the pregnancy and see if there were any complications, but she went ahead and had an abortion. I was under the impression that she miscarried – until she had to be re-admitted to the hospital for a staph infection she'd picked up from one of the operating tools. She pulled through, of course, but…" He pursed his lips, slipping back into his businessman mode again. "She really hasn't been the same since. Every virus comes this much closer to killing her, every cold leaves her hospitalized, and now they say that the abortion was a shabby job, and she has internal injuries left over that will kill her within a year." His smile was bitter. "Fleeting. Too fleeting."

A frown was etched into Gauron's face as he indulged in another sip of sake. "I'll be damned."

"We're lucky she hasn't been pregnant since then – experts think that labor will be the death of her, if she doesn't die in a miscarriage first."

"Lucky, huh," he mused. "I always felt it would be better if your line ended anyways."

The attempt at humor wasn't lost on the other man. "Maybe it's supposed to."

I kept my eyes on my shoes at this solemn change of subject, fairly certain that my opinion or my condolences wouldn't be welcome. I could tell he wasn't seeking pity – which struck an odd note, because I was sure there was _some _reason he told such a personal story. The more personal the information, the more deliberate its purpose, after all, and I doubted this was fictionalized. If anything, I suspected he was keeping something from us. But what?

"Enough of that, though," Raskowitz declared, his mask of indifference returning. "I promised you locations, didn't I?"

"Nice of you to remember," he said with a sly grin.

"Let me find that printout…" he mused, sifting through papers. "Are you sure you only want water, Kashim?"

The name sounded a bit off coming from him, but I shrugged it away. "Water is perfectly all right with me." Though I wouldn't tell him so, the water was the only thing I trusted coming from him: I would be able to taste any sort of poison immediately, and at the moment all I could taste was the generally flavorless soft water, so with water I would remain. Although it was all in a day's work, I felt my heart begin to beat just a little faster, and sweat beads formed under my vest.

Raskowitz pulled a sheet of paper out triumphantly. "Perfect," he decided, handing the printout to me. "I assume you're the go-between for Mithril and this scoundrel?"

"That's correct." I took the paper from him and folded it up inside my jacket.

"Well! That's that," he announced. "How long are you going to be in Moscow?"

"Overnight," Gauron told him, finishing off the sake. "We'll be out of your hair by noon tomorrow."

I didn't miss his misleading suggestion about when we'd be picked up – we were meeting a helicopter at ten in the morning, not noon.

"Shame," he shrugged. "You ought to come by early and say goodbye. I'm sure Sonja would love to come and say goodbye. She was sorry to miss you today."

"I'm sure it could be arranged," was his vague reply. "In the meantime, we'd best get out of your way."

"Do you have lodging for the night?"

"It's taken care of, but thanks for wondering," he said, dangerously neutral. I didn't like his tone all of a sudden, and it seemed like a good idea to make sure the safety on my gun was off.

"Not a problem."

"Thanks for returning the favor," Gauron added, standing and shaking his informant's hand.

"Well," the Russian remarked, "at least we're even now."

"Joy to the world for that," he agreed, once again expressionless. "Let's go, Kashim." There was no room for argument in his voice, and I finished the last of my glass and followed him out.

"It was nice to see you, Kashim," Nicholas Raskowitz said to my retreating back. "You've grown into quite a man."

"Thank you," I mumbled, suddenly desperate to get out the door and away from the overwhelming feeling of _wrong _that hung in that room. There was no Michael waiting outside the door for us, and we made a hasty exit from the building with no disturbances. The corner of the printout holding the next five temporary locations for MUSE poked my chest reassuringly, but not enough to shake my unease.

Gauron's step was brisk and unhindered by anything that got in his way.

"Would you call that a success?" I asked tightly, unsure whether I should be worried by his manner or not.

"I don't know," he practically snarled, in the throes of one of his quicksilver mood-swings and thus answering my question. "I have no clue, and I don't like it. But I have a bad feeling about this." A mocking note entered his voice as he quoted _Star Wars_.

If his feeling was bad, mine was worse. The knot in my stomach that had been forming while we sat in the office wasn't going away – in fact, the further away we were, the tighter it grew. I was actually on the brink of being nauseated, which was a rare occurrence.

Tense silence stretched all the way to the motel, which had been chosen by Mithril and already paid for. We had little luggage, and so once we were settled in the room, there was nothing to do but grow more anxious. I was no more comfortable in the room than I had been anywhere else, and I peeled off the layers of clothing that had been so necessary in the biting wind. The Kevlar vest, while it came off last, made the biggest difference, but I could still only bear the lightest of shirts.

Gauron paced the room irritably while I grew increasingly more ill at ease, and the pacing didn't really help me out much. At one point, he stormed out onto the balcony and slammed the door so hard that the glass rattled. I neither wanted nor dared to follow him.

**8888**

Kalinin's face was relieved when he contacted me. He'd gotten ahold of me as soon as the information readouts reached the de Daanan, and I could tell he was just ready for this ordeal to be over. "Good work, Sergeant," he said stiffly, pride quelled only by his all-encompassing professionalism. "A helicopter will be dispatched to retrieve you at 1000 hours tomorrow, and the de Daanan will be waiting for you when you arrive."

"Thank you, sir," I said humbly.

"At ease, sergeant," he added. "This is by no means a formal debriefing – you'll be contacted in the morning by myself and Captain Testarossa, and once you arrive back on the de Daanan, we'll start planning our next move. Has Gauron given you any trouble?" he asked.

I shook my head. "No, sir. He's outside right now – I haven't seen him since we checked in."

"While your mission is complete," he warned, "you must still keep an eye on him until he's back in Mithril's custody, and it's vital that your guard remain up until he's safely quarantined aboard the submarine."

"I'm aware, sir," I assured him. The knot in my stomach had grown – I put on a poker face for the Lieutenant Commander, but I was actually beginning to feel _pain_, so tight was my stomach. Was this what an anxiety attack felt like?

"The real reason I contacted you, Sergeant," he continued, "is because there's someone who has been very anxious to talk to you. Miss Chidori is present, and she would like to have a word. Do you have a moment?"

"Of course, sir," I lied. I was… yes, this was certainly becoming…

My head spun. _I'm going to be sick_, I realized.

Chidori's face on the communicator was like a bucket of ice. "Thanks for telling me you were leaving!" she stormed.

"It was a very last-minute mission," I told her, well aware that precious little would pacify her in this mood. "I would have mentioned it, but –"

"But you just didn't have time?" she demanded. "Thanks a _lot_, Sousuke – you sure know how to make a girl feel like number one! And to top it off, you're _alone _with that _creep _–"

"Only until ten in the –"

"I DON'T CARE IF IT'S ONLY TILL TEN MINUTES FROM NOW! I DON'T LIKE IT!"

I cringed; she could certainly shout.

"I apologize, Miss Chidori," I tried, hoping it would quell the storm in her eyes. "It was necessary –"

"Yeah, it's always necessary, isn't it?" she snapped.

"Orders," I told her shortly, "are orders." I nearly snapped at her and told her to yell at Kalinin, if she had such a problem with my orders, but I knew far better than to assume that an entire continent between us could save me from her rage.

She was quiet for a moment, and I could almost hear her count to ten in her head. "I'm sorry. Dammit, I wasn't going to yell, I promised Melissa that I would be nice. I'm just –" She bit her lip anxiously. "I don't like it, Sousuke."

"Yes, ma'am, I noticed."

"I mean it!" she insisted. "I know me being worried isn't quite enough to make _you _worried, but I have… this feeling, you know? This _bad _feeling."

"I'm currently in no immediate danger," I assured her. "I'm sure that the enemy could be stationed nearby and waiting for a chance to open fire, but I'm nearly positive that –"

"I know that was supposed to comfort me," she said wryly, "but it sort of didn't do that." Her voice dropped. "I – I've been having dreams," she admitted in a hushed voice. "Nothing, like_, weird _or anything, but – I woke up this morning, and I _knew _something was wrong, and then I found out that you were on this mission… it's not a coincidence," she decided firmly. "I know it's not."

"I'm not sure I understand what you –"

"Sousuke… do you… I mean, you don't remember that time we snuck into the haunted hospital, do you?"

I blinked. "Of course I do, but it certainly wasn't _haunted –_"

"Oh, that's not the point!" she said dismissively, her mood-swing as random as anyone's. "I just – do you remember how you felt when I fell through the floor? And you thought that – you know, I might be –"

Another wave of nausea followed the thought, this one so strong I could taste it. "Yes," I said hoarsely. "I remember."

Her eyes pleaded with me to understand. "Do you remember what you felt, Sousuke?"

I swallowed hard. "I was afraid," I said quietly, the room beginning to tilt.

"I was asking because – Sousuke –" She sounded on the verge of tears. Women were so _unusual_. "How you felt that night? That's – I feel that right now. All I want in the world is for you to be safe, but I'm _scared _because somehow, even though I don't know how, I just know that you're not. Okay?"

I nodded. "I understand."

She cleared her throat and wiped her eyes quickly, erasing any moisture that might have been there. "So – just come back in one piece, okay? I'm going back to Tokyo in an hour, so I won't be here when you come tomorrow, but I'll see you at school. And we have a kanji exam on Thursday," she added warningly. "I _guess _I'll have to loan you my notes."

"I would appreciate that," I told her gently.

Her spirits seemed to lift. "Okay. Well I – that was all I had to say, I guess, so I'll let you go."

It was the best thing I'd heard all day – concern was turning into alarm, alarm was turning into panic, and panic was rising in waves as I felt closer to being sick. I knew for a _fact _that something was going terribly, terribly wrong, and Chidori's seemingly unfounded fears sent a chill racing through me. "I'll see you in class," I promised.

She nodded. "Okay. I guess… bye?"

"Goodbye," I told her in my steadiest voice.

The moment I switched off the communicator, everything came spiraling down, and it was all I could do to make it to the bathroom before I was vomiting.

I never heard the balcony door open or close, but five minutes after I hit my knees before the toilet, I realized I wasn't alone. There wasn't anything I could do about it, of course, because I was still throwing up, but I could feel him standing behind me, and I could practically see his narrowed eyes watching me.

I finally managed to gain control of myself, drawing air into my lungs desperately. "If you don't mind," I choked, "I'd like a little priva-"

That was as far as I got before I was throwing up again. Now I was noticing blood mingled with my lunch, and the realization only served to make me sick again.

I wasn't sure how long I lay on the floor, clinging to the toilet as I continued to empty the contents of my stomach, but the waves of nausea passed finally, and I collapsed against the cabinets, drained to oblivion and desperately short of air. My closest guess was that ten to fifteen minutes had passed since I'd begun throwing up.

"You can start naming everything you've eaten today whenever you're ready," came the chilled voice from above me.

"Breakfast in the mess hall, a freeze-dried lunch on the helicopter," I said dizzily. "That's all."

"Was there anything unusual about the helicopter food?"

I steadied myself, only to start swaying as though I'd been on a boat too long. "It had flavor," I said thoughtfully, putting a hand on the toilet to stem the rocking sensation. "That was unusual."

"How do you feel right now?"

"Dizzy. Nauseous. Unusually warm. Unsteady. It feels like the ground is… moving…" Even the thought sent me vomiting again. Upon catching my breath, I added, "Thirsty. Very thirsty."

There was a tense silence behind me, then, "Shit."

I couldn't move enough to lift my head, for fear of starting up again. The bowl of the toilet seemed to invite me back in, and the very suggestion made my stomach lurch.

"_Shit_," he reiterated, borderline-violently, fist pounding down onto the countertop with a crash. "I missed it. I didn't even fucking _think _about that. I can't believe that son of a bitch actually –" A low growl. "I'm going to kill him. I'll just _kill _him."

I jumped when his fist connected with the counter, finished throwing up for just a moment. "I must be missing something," I mumbled, tongue thick in my mouth.

"The water," he replied simply.

I shook my head, failing to understand, but doing so sent me careening violently to the side.

"You drank the water when we were in his office," Gauron said, voice acidic and dangerous. "Did you taste anything unusual?"

"No, all I tasted was… water… soft water, like coastal water," I told him. "I'd be able to taste poison, it's too bitter to mix with water…"

"Then it was a very small dose," he mused, still angry.

I didn't dare move enough to look at him. "You think he poisoned me?" I realized, my heart hammering loudly in my chest and shaking my body with each beat.

He was quiet for a moment. "No, I don't think he poisoned you. I think he had other ideas." A cold laugh. "Fleeting, he says. I'll leave his body hanging from the roof of the Winter Palace. The only _fleeting_ part of that is how quickly the cops will drag it down. He's so worried about his precious time, I'll give him an extra _hour _to appreciate it."

I didn't pretend to understand what was going on. "Do you know what's wrong with me?" I demanded, steel lining the weak words.

"I can take a good guess."

For a moment, I had the idealistic hope that perhaps _nothing _was incurably wrong with me. "Am I having an allergic reaction to something?" I asked hopefully, only to punctuate the thought with another round of vomiting.

He laughed mirthlessly. "If only it were that easy." When I didn't respond, due to the fact that I was throwing up still, he sighed. "No, Kashim, you weren't poisoned. You were drugged."

I swallowed hard and then sucked in a harsh breath. _"What?_" I rasped. "Why?"

"I don't know," he growled. "There's something… I know I'm missing something, but I can't figure out what it is."

"Drugged?" I repeated. "With what?"

"Fro what I can tell? A hallucinogen. It's not perfect, and it's not on the streets yet, but MUSE lifted the formula for a hallucinogen potent enough that an ounce could affect thirty people as intensely as one." Gauron's tone was clipped and clinical as he rattled off information. "It's no different than acid or mushrooms… but the common dosage still equals four hits of acid. You're nauseous right now because it's a shock to your system – your body knows something is wrong, it just doesn't know what. When you're done throwing up," he said simply, "you'll start to trip."

"I'll what?" I repeated with dawning horror.

"Hallucinate. I don't know how much is in your system, so I don't know how intense this will be. I can only guess that it's fairly strong, since you're still sick. That, by the way, will pass. But you're in for one hell of a ride," he chuckled dryly. "I was around when they were testing it on people. Hard to believe something so small could really drive a person more or less insane for three hours, but so very true." A wry twist of his mouth. "Makes you wonder, doesn't it?"

"No," I decided with pointed nausea, "it doesn't."

"Maybe not you," he dismissed me, "but it's very interesting, what these people have stored away in their minds."

I didn't think it was even remotely interesting, what lay in the mind of the Whispered – at the moment, I could only focus on what lay in my stomach and for how much longer it would do so. "Are there any sedatives or tranquilizers in the room?" I tried as the idea came into my mind.

"Kashim, why in the hell would there be any of those anywhere?"

"I don't know," I said sourly, "I can't even begin to guess what's in that bag you brought."

"Lots of interesting things," he assured me, "but no tranquilizers. Now that you mention it, I don't know why I didn't think of that…"

I swallowed a groan.

"I _do _have rope, if you'd like to be restrained," he offered.

I was able to look up at him then, incredulity written into my face. "I don't even _remotely _want that," I told him shortly.

"Because it's worse than being knocked out?"

"Yes," I snapped.

"Don't you trust me, Kashim?"

The mere thought of it made my head feel like it was full of helium. "Hardly."

"That hurt. And I wouldn't give you a sedative even if I had one," he added, "because the added stress to your system would probably send you into a coma, and all I need is to explain to Mithril why I'm dragging your comatose body through the snow."

"Am I going to be violent?" I asked.

He shrugged. "It depends on the person. Some people become nearly catatonic until it wears off, and other people climb the walls – it depends on your frame of mind."

"I never want to have any contact with any sort of substance that can be abused ever, ever again," I groaned, groping for the toilet. "_Including _morphine." Though I knew my stomach wanted to turn itself inside-out, I was reduced to dry heaves that left me positively drained of energy.

I rested weakly against the bathtub, allowing the chilled porcelain to cool my skin through my shirt. "I should dispose of my weapons," I sighed wearily. "In case I do become violent."

"You really aremessed up right now," he chuckled. "Drugged _and_ unarmed around me? I thought you didn't trust me."

I cringed. "I don't. But I don't know what I'll be capable of, and it's best if I ensure that I endanger no one."

"Suit yourself," he shrugged.

I didn't dignify him with a response; instead, I began discarding my weapons with heavy limbs, which included a knife in my boot, a razor in my belt, a coin with a cyanide-tipped needle hidden in it for the most dire of emergencies – capture in enemy territory – and a box-cutter in my pocket. He stared.

"What, you're not coughing up a grenade?" he asked dryly.

"I have nowhere to hide one."

He chucked to himself. "That's what you think."

I ignored him and dumped my weapons into the bathtub, guns included, and pushed myself to my feet. Though sickness still threatened my movements, it was no longer overpowering and I was fairly certain I could keep from having to vomit for the time being. I brushed my teeth and rinsed my mouth as best I could with shaking hands and turned to walk out of the bathroom, flipping the lock on the door as I did so.

The doorknob felt oddly solid in my hand, as though no doorknob had ever been that solid before, and I pondered on that for a moment as I pulled the door shut behind me. The doorframe seemed to pulse as the lock clicked into place, sealing my weapons away from me for the time being. If I looked hard enough, the crack of the door seemed to vanish and become part of the frame around it.

I glanced at Gauron warily, noticing for the first time a slight wave to the wallpaper. "It might be best if you weren't here," I told him in a clipped voice, masking all emotion.

His eyebrows rose. "You couldn't pay me enough to miss this."

I placed a steadying hand on the wall. "I don't need to worry about the harm I'll do to myself on top of the harm that _you'll _most likely –"

"I'm a lot of things, Kashim," he cut me off, "and while opportunistic is most certainly one of them, what you're talking about isn't quite up my alley, believe it or not."

It was too much of a stretch to say that I believed him, trusted him, or even suspected that he might be good for his word at the moment, but I was pacified for the time being, and that actually worried me more than being alone with him, somewhere out of my right mind.

With detached worry, I realized it had begun.


	12. A Secret

_My goodness, it's been awhile. Fortunately, I live! I post!_

_For anyone who's interested, there's a FMP slash group on Livejournal – it's very small (3 posts, I think), but members are much appreciated. http/ if anyone is interested! LJ accounts are free, and so if anyone's interested in joining – PLEASE GOD DO SO._

_And leave me feedback, because you know I'm a whore for it._

**Chapter 13**

Beyond the occasional suspicion, the effects took a very long time to set in. I paced for a good fifteen minutes, which was unusual in hindsight because I don't usually pace, but had to stop when breath became hard to come by. Gradually, however, I began to notice little things – as I paced and watched my feet, it ceased to seem as though I was even moving, and although I knew it was completely illogical, it looked more like it was the _room _that moved rather than me, and I was walking just fast enough to keep from moving with the room.

That was my first clue that perhaps something was wrong.

My second clue was the tremors. I was actually sweating very slightly, but now and then I would have to completely stop whatever I was doing and simply shake. The spells would pass, but after each one of them, the world around me seemed more surreal than it had been before, and it felt like my sanity was being pulled away from me in increasing portions. "Rocky" was an accurate word, if not an understatement, for what I was experiencing. The dizziness returned, urged on by every object I saw – a chair, the television, shoes – it seemed as though everything around me was suddenly charged with electricity, trembling wherever it sat and thrumming with energy, just waiting to explode – or run away.

Neither thought sat well in my troubled mind, because as I slid further away I could think of nothing more inconvenient or difficult to explain than the coffee table galloping out the door with the vase of fake flowers sitting on top of it. We would be kicked out of the motel for certain were that to happen, but my unwavering gaze seemed to keep it in place, however precariously. If I continued to look at it, then it remained where it sat, although at the same time a tiny part of me knew that this was simply _ridiculous_.

The other items in the room, the ones I couldn't afford to focus on in my misguided attempt to maintain control over the coffee table, denied the laws of gravity and physics as I shivered, dancing in my peripheral vision like puppets on a string and daring me to release the coffee table so that I could challenge them as well. But each time I spared a glance, whatever I focused on would stop moving and everything around me would continue to do so. The same tiny part of my mind that remained rational continued to tell me that in reality, _nothing _was moving and this was all a drug-induced hallucination, but seeing was believing, and I was _seeing _things move when I knew for a fact they could not be.

The noise from the TV was an American movie subtitled in Russian, both of which were languages that I understood but didn't speak, and every now and then I could hear screams that I suspected came from the TV, but I wasn't certain. All I knew was that every time someone screamed, the world came to a screeching halt and my entire body would seize up in some sort of panic, but I couldn't bring myself to turn it off. My limbs were utterly wooden, and each time I thought I could summon the strength to control them, the trembling would increase tenfold, and I would feel sweat snaking down my back.

The only reprieve from any of this was a cold, damp towel that sought to calm me. I felt as though I could see my pain rippling through the room like ripples on a pond, and everything around me would shudder in pain when it reached them. The towel alone was able to keep me semi-sane; it remained cold and wet, and when the sweat would break out, it wiped it away from my forehead and neck thoughtfully.

A long time passed in this fashion, but I couldn't read the clock to see just how much time. Each time I thought I could pinpoint the hands on the clock, the numbers would rotate counter-clockwise and I would no longer be able to understand what I was seeing. I gave up trying once I started to get motion-sick.

Another scream from the television – and suddenly it was too much. My hands tangled in my hair, shaking too badly to make fists, and I was thinking, _No more, I can't take it anymore, the screaming has to stop or _I'll _start screaming –_

But somehow, something heard me, and without warning, the screams stopped. The bright, blinding colors that had danced across the screen for so long vanished abruptly, and blackness stared out at me like the gaping jaws of a demon.

That was when I realized I was going mad.

The couch cushions hugged me, closing around me and pulling me back, surrounding me in warmth that served as some kind of reprieve from the madness swirling around me. The pressure around me also quelled the tremors that had become almost routine, tightening when I shook and taking the edge off of it. The cold rag swept across my forehead and neck again and I took a shuddering breath, relaxing as much as I could and trying to will the shakes away.

It helped, to be wrapped in a firm embrace and restrained from the madness that I thought would kill me. It was like an anchor to a reality I couldn't see or feel yet, but one that waited patiently for me to come back from the brink of insanity.

Once my eyes were closed, it seemed that I could feel the objects that had danced madly around me drop down to their designated spots in defeat. There was a nearly-audible crash as everything settled back into place around me. But that didn't calm the frenzy in my brain; behind closed eyes, I was spinning wildly out of control, and even though I was fairly certain that I wasn't moving, there was an overwhelming sensation of falling. I knew almost for a fact that if I opened my eyes and looked up, I would see my stomach on the ceiling, waiting for me to stop falling. But I didn't want to look at the ceiling – every time I did, the popcorn texture seemed to lose control and each little bump raced madly around, a swirling mass of things that looked almost like insects and made my head spin faster.

So I kept my eyes closed and fell, fell, fell, hundreds of feet that had to have turned into miles, almost like jumping out of a plane, which I'd done, but so much more real and intense than any jump I'd made before. I knew that eventually I would run out of emptiness to plummet through, and my heart raced with fear at the realization that I would have to hit the ground eventually. The shakes started up again, and with them came the cool rag, which fell along beside me. I laid like that for a very long time, wrapped in the hard, unyielding warmth as I lost control of myself and fell.

And then –

Finally –

I slowed down. It was no longer a plummet to the ground, but gradually a light float, and my pulse slowed as I realized that I wouldn't crash to the earth and be crushed upon impact. When I opened my eyes, the inanimate objects around me were quiet and subservient, moving only when touched, and the shakes came in waves, then left for awhile.

My hands trembled as I held them before my face, but it wasn't the violent vibrations of earlier, nor was it the uncontrollable trembles that had consumed me and everything I saw. It was the tremble of utter exhaustion that would not be sated anytime soon.

I came back to myself slowly, hesitantly, afraid that if I reclaimed my body, it would start all over again. But inch by inch, as I tested first my feet, then my arms, different parts of my body to ensure that they were indeed in my control, I began to feel more aware, more lucid, and gradually, more like myself.

I briefly considered thanking the couch for staying with me, but a tiny voice in the corner of my mind told me that was completely illogical, because couches were incapable of receiving gratitude for their good deeds. One of my hands rested on the cushion that had wrapped around me, and I wished the couch could understand its many services that evening.

I lay for a long time, looking at the room around me as if to make sure nothing was going to move without being touched, and it was a different type of falling that took me then. A hand smoothed damp hair from my forehead, and my entire body went limp with exhaustion.

Whether I wanted to or not, I surrendered to oblivion and let the darkness that hovered on the fringes of my vision close in around me.

_Sleep…_

**88888**

I woke up, disoriented and horribly, painfully alert. Sunlight no longer peeked through the curtains, and the clock on the wall indicated that it was well into the night. I lay still for a full minute, ensuring that I really was awake and not at the mercy of the surreal dreams that had haunted my sleep. My senses were hyper-aware, and although my body was no longer violently affected, I could tell that I was not free of the drug just yet.

That was when common sense, or something resembling it, came back to me as well.

It was a slow realization that urged me to take a close look at what was wrapped around my chest, pinning me to the couch, and I understood, after a fashion, that it was not a couch cushion. It was an arm, and one I recognized, no less – few people had a scar on their forearm shaped like the Nike swoop that was from a piece of shrapnel seven years prior, and with a falling sensation not unlike the one I'd just recovered from, I _understood_.

"All better?" Gauron asked with a twist to his words that only he could achieve.

"More or less," I admitted. The sound of my voice was disorienting, but at the same time sobering. Somehow, talking made me a little more… real.

About two seconds after that thought entered my head, I grasped the complete gravity of my position and, thoroughly ignoring the fact that I probably shouldn't have stood up as fast as I did, made sure to remedy it. I paid for it almost instantly, of course; upon rising, I tripped over the coffee table and could only stumble to the wall to keep from falling over and breaking my neck. The dizzy spell was brutal and mercifully brief, so once I'd steadied myself, it was already passing.

I rubbed my knee and shot him a glance. "I hope you don't have any attachments to Raskowitz," I began, voice hoarse from disuse, "because I'm going to kill him."

He sprawled out across the couch. "Get in line."

My head was still a little cloudy, and the longer I thought about how good it would feel to wring the Russian's neck, the harder my heart pounded. "How long is this supposed to last?" I asked, swaying.

"You've stopped seeing flowers sprout from the walls, right?"

"…More or less," I conceded, deciding not to argue with him and say _I didn't see anything grow from the walls, but I felt increasingly threatened by the remote control and the chairs._

A shrug. "You'll be disoriented for a few hours – you won't be officially back to normal until sometime around three in the morning, but the effects should be more manageable now that you've quit seeing things. I think sleep might have helped, too."

I was silent for a long time, leaning on the wall for support. "Why drug me?" I finally asked. When he remained quiet, I narrowed my eyes. "I wasn't being rhetorical," I added.

"I know," he said, deep in thought. "In a large enough portion, that drug is lethal. He might have been trying to kill you as a sort of message to me, or whoever got our drinks could have mistakenly put it in yours instead of mine. This could all be a mix-up."

"I'm almost afraid to ask why he'd want to kill you," I groaned.

"I can't think of anything I've done to him specifically over the years," he admitted. "…I don't _think _there's anyth…"

As soon as he fell silent again, I started to suspect he was putting the pieces together in his mind. The grin and shake of his head that followed was only bad news to me.

"I think it might be a good idea if we leave Moscow," he told me around an unsettling roll of laughter. "Oh, Nick. Of course he remembers that. That doesn't mean I know why he spiked your drink," Gauron added, "but I'm pretty sure I know why he tried something. Get your weapons out of the bathroom. We're relocating."

"What did you do?" I demanded, too proud to inform him that I wasn't sure just how far I could walk before my legs gave out. I didn't dare go out in public.

"That's a story for later, Kashim. Right now, we should –"

"He _drugged _me," I snapped. "I'm sure this is all centered around something that is none of my business, but the moment he slipped something into my drink, it _became _my business, and in case you're forgetting, I'm the ranking –"

"Not that you aren't cute when you're mad," he cut me off, "but if you try to pull rank on me again, I'll knock you out and I won't feel bad about it. We're going to blame your displeasure right now on the fact that you're not really in control of your-"

"I hope you're not suggesting that it takes mental deficiency on my part for you to –" _Piss me off_, I wanted to say, but snapping at him was only going to move me in the wrong direction.

His eyebrows rose. "For me to what?" he challenged.

I swallowed an angry response and took a deep, calming breath. "Before we go anywhere," I tried reasonably, "we should contact Kalinin and inform him of our movements."

"We won't be able to get a signal out of here that isn't picked up," he disagreed from the couch.

"Then what do _you _suggest we do?" I snapped tightly.

A slow, curling smile. "I'm so glad you asked."

I gritted my teeth and tried not to bang my head against the wall.

_So. Infuriating._

"I think we should hang out on the fringes of the city, far enough from Nick's little circle of spies that he won't have a way to track our movements, but not so far that we can't get to the pick-up in the morning."

He wasn't finished, but I cut him off. "Isn't it a little hasty to assume we won't be followed? I suspect Raskowitz already has people watching the room and all the exits – we wouldn't get out of here without being spotted."

"Care to make a wager?" he offered wryly.

"No."

"Well then." He stretched like a cat in the sun and flashed me a lazy look. "How about I walk around the block and see what happens – I'm not one to boast (he lied so easily), but if someone is following me, I'll know."

I glanced heavenward, biting back a sigh. "Would you just like to _advertise _that we're testing our boundaries? If Raskowitz knows you as well as he seems to, wouldn't he know that you'd check to see if we're being followed?"

"How about we just put a sign up outside our door that says _shoot us_?" he retorted.

"We might as well."

Gray eyes narrowed as he pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and freed one. "Would you like to be cornered here, where we have nowhere to retreat if we need to, or out in the open, where they'll worry about witnesses?"

"We're in enemy territory," I reasoned. "We should keep as low a profile as possible."

He sighed. "I suppose it's up to you, _Sergeant_."

I flared a little. "That's correct," I said shortly. Then, as an afterthought, "What _did _you do to make Raskowitz so angry?"

Gauron ignored me all the way to the balcony door, twirling a lighter between his fingers, but he gave me one of his unreadable looks as he stepped out into the swirling snow. "It's none of your business."

The door slammed shut behind him.

_It's not in the mission statement to kill him_, I reminded myself. _And my judgment is too clouded right now – I think – to make such a weighty decision. Try counting to ten… it helps._

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, head resting against the wall. On the rare occasions that she chose to count to ten, Chidori had a habit of throwing fewer items at me, or swinging her purse. Over the last week, she'd taken to weighing her purse down with a soda can, which made getting hit over the head with it that much more unpleasant.

She also hadn't tried to stem her temper as often lately.

While I did cool off a little, it was still difficult to ignore how thoroughly he'd been baiting me – being alone with him while unarmed, drugged, and bound by policy not to kill him was more suicidal than it was dangerous. He was far too intelligent to be trusted in a situation where all the odds were stacked against me; he had the advantage, and although I technically had authority over this mission, it was utterly irrelevant. He would do what he wanted to do, when he wanted to do it, whether I ordered otherwise or not.

I noticed that the world around me was still a little too vibrant – colors were bolder, objects around the room were more prominent, and the cool wall against my skin was completely distracting. Unfortunately, whatever I came in contact with had that effect, and so I would just have to deal with it until the effects wore off entirely. I also avoided thinking about those two hours where the world around me was completely out of control… it was like a waking nightmare too unsettling to dwell on.

Fortunately, my mind was focused elsewhere – like on the countless things Gauron could have done to his former companion to drive him to revenge. _Literally _countless: murder, blackmail, embezzlement, betrayal – so many ways he could have angered him. It almost seemed like his specialty.

If it got me killed –

I growled with irritation. While I thought it safer to remain where we were for the time, I couldn't help but feel a little trapped. And I would never admit it out loud, but Gauron was right about one thing: if Raskowitz cornered us here, we had nowhere to go. We were fifteen stories up, and in spite of my attention to detail, I hadn't thought to bring rappelling gear.

The entire situation was a disaster waiting to happen – and that was only including the numerous ways I could get shot within the next fifteen hours.

I sat down heavily and ran an unsteady hand through my hair – the problems I needed to consider weren't just militant. And the biggest of my non-militant problems was outside smoking a cigarette.

I was going to _die_.


	13. A Casual Betrayal

Thanks, Aura. Now I'm having trouble not saying the phrase "Afghan puppy" in here. And I would've gotten away with it, too, if it weren't for those darn kids.

Slightly cracked-out – whoops, _very _cracked-out. My apologies

PS: Since I just can't win, the LJ group I mentioned previously is www . livejournal .com / community / fmpslash , without the spaces, of course.

**13**

_The barrel of a gun digs into the base of my skull, hard enough to bruise, and I wonder again (in vain) why bad things keep happening to me when I'm around Gauron._

_I test the bonds at my wrists again, hoping that maybe the steel cuffs will turn to elastic and I might be able to worm free – but the laws of physics haven't changed any in the last five minutes, and I'm still in a great deal of trouble. But I can't simply resign myself to admitting defeat – never admit defeat – even in such a situation._

_Ten million things are buzzing in my brain, trying to get my attention and make me very aware of the many reasons I should be panicking, but I'm very focused on the man in front of me. This is the exact situation I've been dreading for so many months: being caught off my guard. Feeling too confident of my surroundings, or of my ability to control the situation. Now I'm very likely going to die for it._

_I try not to shoot a glare at the man held captive beside me, although every aspect of this fiasco is probably his fault anyways. His hands are bound in front of him simply so Raskowitz can see them and ensure he's not going to pull something, and he's taken advantage of the situation by… smoking a cigarette. A terrorist of such global infamy he's died four times and yet can't seem to stay dead, whose mere name sets any man worth his salt on edge – and he can't think of anything better to do than smoke a cigarette. He's already given the subject a breezy dismissal ("Consider it a last request or something.") and it has not been mentioned again._

_Snow swirls around us on the windy rooftop as Gauron and I kneel before Raskowitz, one step closer to execution. "I'm sorry it had to end like this," the Russian says._

_He rolls his eyes. "Oh, for Christ's sake. Don't patronize me."_

_A dry laugh. "An asshole to the end," Raskowitz remarks._

"_I'm just surprised Sonja here isn't taking pictures."_

"_I have a camera," the woman informs him. "And the photos would be worth a great deal of money." _

_The look he gives her is one of such distain that I nearly cringe, and I'm starting to wonder if I would survive if I told them that yes, he is an insufferable man who drives me insane, and by all means shoot him._

_The biggest setback in trying to get out of this is the fact that he simply is not afraid of death. Even looking down the barrel of his own loaded gun, his arrogance is unwavering. Death to me is like closing a book before it's finished, and I want to postpone it as long as possible, but for Gauron, death is simply something else for him to cheat and swindle. That or it's a walk down memory lane, given how many times he's come close to it._

"_Any final words?" Raskowitz asks, breaking the chilling silence. "Perhaps for the boy?"_

_He tosses me a thoughtful glance, and I could kill the Russian for the door he's just opened as I hear ominous echoes of _I love you_ bouncing around in my head. That absolutely cannot be the last thing he ever says to me – _

_It nearly killed me before._

_His mouth quirks up in a smile, as though he's reading my mind. But instead of stating the obvious, he simply shrugs and says, "Nothing he doesn't already know."_

_It's merely a variation of the same thing, and the effect it has on me is still akin to being hit with a baseball bat. I swallow very hard and do my best not to yell at him, although I don't know exactly what would leave my mouth._

_Raskowitz's eyes flicker over to me, and he shakes his head. "Personally, Sagara, I think I'm doing you a favor." Not like it's a favor I'll live to appreciate._

"_So do I," I snap, but it's half-hearted and utterly transparent. _

_His gaze leaves me and returns to his target, aiming the gun so that it will miss the titanium plate that saved his life before. "Goodbye, old friend," he says quietly._

_A wide grin greets him. "See you in Hell."_

_There is not even a flicker of fear in his eyes when Raskowitz fires._

**13**

**One hour prior**

My only attempt to bridge the tense gap between us, as he stood outside and brooded over a cigarette (or a pack of them), was as much a failure as it was a success. I didn't even get to formulate words – upon sticking my head out the door, he promptly snapped, "Don't say one fucking word."

I leveled a glare at him. "What are you doing?"

He sighed dramatically at being disobeyed. "I'm thinking, Kashim."

I let the unspoken "About?" hang in the air.

"About when this stopped being convenient, and why I'm still here," he finished acidly, stubbing his cigarette out violently, throwing it away, and lighting another. I didn't need to ask what 'this' was, and I proudly… well… played stupid.

"You ought to be careful with that," I said evasively as the tip of the cigarette glowed. "It's dark enough now that it could give away your position."

He rolled his eyes. "Don't be so dramatic. And start getting your toys out of the bathroom," he added, "because we're getting out of here."

_Snit._

The burning tip of his cigarette dropped to the ground, and I barely heard a bullet whiz by. "_Snipers_."

He held up a hand to silence me. "Don't run," he warned. "That was just a warning shot."

My hand was on the doorknob. "Then we should –"

"If they wanted to kill us," Gauron cut me off, "they would have shot one of us, not a perfectly good cigarette."

"And you're suggesting we take to the streets?" I asked skeptically.

"You're suggesting we stay put?" he shot back, lighting the rest of his cigarette. "Fine; by all means, let's just wait."

"I can't guarantee I'm in any condition to protect myself if we leave," I snapped, then kicked myself as soon as I heard what I said. Weakness – the last thing I needed him to spot in me now. But it was the truth – colors were still too bright, noises were still too loud, the air around me was still too charged. The boring hotel room sufficed to distract me too much, and I couldn't even guess what my reaction would be to the busy nightlife of Moscow. But I didn't like my chances, and that was the truth.

He leaned against the rail casually, and I waved away smoke when he sent it my way. "I think I can take care of us both, Kashim."

My skin crawled at his patronizing tone. "I'm not going to stake my life on it," I told him shortly.

"I'm almost hurt," he drawled. I ignored him.

A biting wind sent more smoke into my face, and I shivered a little despite the jacket I'd donned earlier. "I'll be inside," I decided after only a minute or two out in the cold.

"Getting your weaponry, I hope," he called after me.

I slammed the door in response.

Only he would be infuriating enough to insist on finishing his damned cigarette in the cross-hairs of a sniper.

_Maybe next time he won't miss_, I thought darkly. Although on the off-chance he was taken out by a sniper, that left me in a potentially dangerous position: alone and still slightly disoriented in a city where the underworld would probably try to kill me. It was an unsettling thought, but for the first time, it was probably safer if he was alive…

I shook my head and dispelled the thought immediately. Things hadn't changed that much; night was still dark, wars still raged, and it would _always_ be safer if he was dead.

**13**

Cool gray eyes narrowed amid the flurry of wind and snowflakes that followed him inside, and I suspected he'd smoked more than just one cigarette after I came in. "Don't tell me the bathroom is still locked."

"I haven't opened it yet."

"So your gun is still in there."

"Along with –"

"The gun is all you need," he interrupted. "Just get it, grab a coat, and we're out of here."

"I'm not –"

He had a good six inches on me, but I remained unfazed as he towered over me, intimidation written into his face. "If we stay here," Gauron told me, his voice clipped and annoyed, "they'll trap us like rats. And I'd rather have a hundred people around me if we get cornered rather than sound-proof walls, because those won't block a bullet."

"Neither should civilians!"

"What else are they good for?" he said boredly.

I crossed my arms. "This isn't going to get you your way."

"So it's an issue of persuasion now, hmm?" he purred, taking advantage of the situation as only he could and closing off the distance between us.

"What makes you so sure they'll come for us?" I challenged, trying to ignore the look he was giving me now. That was easier said than done, however: the longer his eyes burned into me, the warmer the room became, and the stronger I felt the long-forgotten pull of desire… obviously, I was still drugged…

"Trust me, they will." I took a step back as he took one forward, feeling more like an open book with each passing moment. My life flashed before my eyes.

Weakness was not something I needed at the moment, and insanity was a considerable weakness – and he saw it.

"What did you do to him?" I demanded, trying to hold on to my anger.

"Do you really want to know the answer to that?" he asked finally, a slow smirk forming.

"Yes," I snapped, "I do. I think I'm entitled, since he poisoned me over it."

A shrug. "I slept with his wife."

He what? Along with, why wasn't I surprised?

"Before they were married, of course," he added, as though the sanctity of marriage meant anything.

"And he's held a grudge for… how many years?"

"I'm still working it out," he informed me.

"It's a slight overreaction to target me for your mistake," I said with displeasure, stumbling backwards over a chair. This was not working in my favor, and I was running out of ground – the room was only so big.

"There are some… kinks," he dismissed, side-stepping the fallen chair. "But wouldn't you be mad too, if you were a socially inept tag-along who finally got laid, only to find out your business partner beat you to it?"

I finally ran out of room and hit what passed as a dining table. Beyond it was a wall. The door was not close enough for me to make a run for. _Trapped_.

"I would be upset – I wouldn't target a complete stranger years later to pay for it," I countered after a long moment. "If you'd killed her, it would be different. But – for the first time – you didn't kill anyone."

For a split second he froze, as if the pieces had all fallen into place, but the look faded into a frown after a moment and he swore colorfully.

"Something is missing." More to himself than to me. "What am I missing, Kashim?" Now he was far too close, and I had nowhere to go. "What could he gain from mourning his tragic marital problems today? There's something there…" His fist slammed down on the table, hard. "I'll kill him. Whatever this is, it's ridiculously simple and I'll send his head rolling for it."

I glanced furtively for an escape – this was not a safe place by any means, and getting my gun from the bathtub was starting to sound a little more appealing than it had before. His fingers drummed the tabletop behind me. "You look anxious," he added.

"I'm going to get my weapons from the bathroom," I said firmly. "Now."

"And why's that?" he rumbled.

"Because I can handle one rationally now," I shot back.

"Do you feel threatened in some way?"

I leveled a glare at him and tried to step around him, but he caught my arm. "Let go," I added for good measure. "Don't you have something better to do, like figuring out exactly why Raskowitz might go to extreme measures to take revenge on you?"

"I could," he shrugged. "I just need time to think."

A response of some sort was forming in my brain, but it was cut short when he kissed me roughly.

I recoiled, taken by surprise. "What are you –"

The sentence remained unfinished, because even in my right mind he had been nearly impossible to resist, and now I couldn't even convince myself to put a stop to…

I shuddered as his hands slipped under my shirt and pinned me to him, my sole attempt to shove him off too half-hearted and reflexive. "I concentrate better like this," he murmured against my ear. His mouth fell to my neck – a weakness he was all too familiar with – and in spite of myself, I tilted my head back in silent surrender.

Somehow, from there, everything went wrong. Given who I was dealing with, I shouldn't have been surprised. Neither of us spoke for a long time – not until he'd reduced me to a writhing, willing recipient of his touch.

"Tell me, Kashim," he growled into my skin, pausing to bite down almost painfully, "is it true what they say? That you feel more until the drugs wear off?"

My breath caught in the back of my throat, just short of a groan. "Bastard."

Fingers dug into my hips, most certainly bruising. "We could find out," he continued between borderline-painful kisses. "I could show you. You remember, don't you? – How good it was?"

"No," I lied furiously as my body betrayed me. His laugh was muffled by my throat.

"You were always a terrible liar," he taunted. "What's the matter, Kashim? Don't you love me?"

"_No_!"

A hand fisted in my hair and turned my head so that we were nose-to-nose, and his soft laughter rolled freely now. "You say no," he purred venomously, "but you always come back for more."

I ground my teeth and struggled to stay in control of myself. How had the tables been turned like this? "This is you," I said as coldly as I could. "You keep coming back. If you would just stay dead –"

"How else are you going to get laid?" he scoffed. "No one knows you like I do, Kashim. It would take the rest of the world years to understand you – but I know you better than you know yourself. I know what makes you angry, I know what makes you tick…" So close now that his words brushed my mouth. "I know what makes you scream."

I wanted to hit him, so renewed was my anger (anger mixed with so many other conflicting things), but I was physically incapable of causing the pain I wanted to; it wouldn't hurt enough, and he was blurring the lines between hatred and pain and… and everything else. I wasn't sure what I wanted, and that was exactly what he wanted. This confusion was how it had all started in the very beginning.

Something in my brain snapped, and I closed the gap between us by grabbing his collar and pulling him to me almost violently. Just like he'd wanted, just like he'd expected, I kissed him with a ferocity that drove reason from my mind and left only… him.

My heart pounded, drowning out everything around me. I only heard his groan because it went from his mouth to mine.

All background noise faded… I thought.

The click of a door, then of a gun.

"I hate to interrupt," said Raskowitz from the bathroom.

Time as we knew it came to a screeching halt.

Space blossomed between us, and I sucked air into my deprived lungs. Mortification wasn't far behind.

"Nick," Gauron said, voice controlled but winded. "You're timing's a little off today."

"That's my curse," the Russian shrugged, gun trained on his former associate. "You know how it goes, _amigo_. Hands where I can see them. If you make any funny moves, I'll kill him."

We both held our hands at eye-level as he frisked us both; all my weapons had been unloaded, but Gauron had a sole pistol on him. "Nice gun."

"Thanks. I stole it off a dead man."

"Why don't I find that hard to believe?" Raskowitz mused, holstering his own gun in favor of the new one.

"Look. Nick." His voice was smooth as silk now, shifting from the husky growl to a conversational lilt. "We have a few options right now."

Two pairs of handcuffs were tossed our way. "Put those on as you give me our options, and make sure they're tight. I don't want you slipping those off later and pulling a fast one. Kashim, I want yours done in the back. But as for my slippery friend here, keep your hands where I can see them. Palms open, around front." We complied.

A thoughtful gaze remained on the Russian, as though we weren't in the midst of a bad situation. "You're now privy to something that maybe six other people on the planet know about," he said calmly. "That's six people more than I'm comfortable with, and I sure as hell didn't tell any of them. The more people who get involved, the messier things become. And under normal circumstances, the fact that you know about this wouldn't bode well for you."

"You don't say."

"Fact is," he continued, "I don't like people knowing about my private life. When that happens, people get ideas. Stupid ideas. They think they might be able to use this against me – for example, someone might be stupid enough to try to poison poor Kashim here, for no other reason than to try to get to me through him. Or they might wave a gun around and say that if I don't do what they say, they'll kill him instead of me. One thing you never understood, Nick, was that if you want me, you'd better make sure that you do it quick, and get it right the first time."

"Unless I'm mistaken, it sounds like you're threatening me," the other man warned. "I don't recommend that."

He raised cuffed hands. "This is all nice and planned out," he commended, "but I'll tell you what: unlock us, let us walk, and I won't kill you today. I have bigger fish to fry, believe me, so if you leave me alone, I'll return the favor. I can't guarantee that you'll keep your mouth shut," he conceded, "and I don't really look forward to all the shit I'll be wading through once you decide to tell all, but I'm willing to offer you not only that, but your life if you'll give me the keys to these things."

"It sounds suspiciously like you're begging."

His grey eyes burned. "Trust me, Nick. I don't beg. I'm trying to do you a favor."

"I'll keep that in mind. You're awfully quiet, Sergeant," he added.

I stiffened at the title, but said nothing.

"Oh, yes," he told me smugly, "I've done my homework about you. I knew you spent time in the Middle East before you chose Mithril, but I'd had no idea you were Kalinin's little Afghan lapdog. It says in your file that you've faced this fiend down no less than four times with the specific intent of killing him, and you've failed each time."

"Fifth time's the charm," I gritted.

A sharp elbow. "I have nine lives, Kashim. Keep trying."

I stepped a little farther away from him, barely able to keep my raging hormones in check in the face of danger.

"Don't worry about five through nine," Raskowitz countered. "I don't mind doing your job for you."

"Hard to make it sound like a favor when you plan on killing him next."

"You're a very obstinate man, did you know that?" A sympathetic glance at me. "Have you noticed that, Kashim?"

"It's hard to miss."

A sly grin. "But he loves me anyways."

I ground my teeth harder.

His attention returned to our captor. "So, do we have a deal?"

"Considering I'm the one with the gun, and you're both restrained… no. No, I don't think we have a deal," Raskowitz decided. "I think I'm the one in charge here, and even though you don't like it, you're just going to have to get over it."

"I'm offering you a way out, Nick," he warned. "Because it's either that, or I kill you and your pretty little wife, when I find her."

"You won't have to look very far," the other man told him. "She's waiting for us on the roof right now."

"I don't normally give someone a last chance to change their mind, but I'm giving you that chance."

"I'll remember your generosity when I'm deciding whether I want your death to be slow and painful, or mercifully quick," he shot back. "Let's go."

"Before we do –" I almost fell silent again when they both turned to look at me. "I'd like to know. All this for an infidelity that was so far in the past?"

The Russian shook his head. "Of course not. He didn't tell you what happened?"

My eyes narrowed. "Apparently not."

"Yes, I did," he snapped. "I was just missing…" He froze. "Well. Fuck me. I forgot about that."

If I'd been armed, I would have shot him.

"You had it all along, Kashim," he remarked, but his eyes never left Raskowitz. "You said it didn't make sense to you because I didn't kill her. And the only brush with death she ever had, not long after I skipped town…"

I filled in the blanks. "Was the miscarriage that nearly killed her."

"That _will_ kill her in the end," Raskowitz corrected me softly.

I turned to glare at my companion. "And how does that go back to you?"

His eyes blazed with comprehension. "Because Nick can't have children."

**13**

The only image I had of Sonja Raskowitz was that of a frail, wispy woman who was holding on to life by a thread, plagued by misfortune and poor health. The idea that she was waiting for us on the roof didn't intimidate me.

I was sorely mistaken.

The woman waiting for us when we stepped out onto the cold, windy rooftop was far from frail; the only indication that her health was ailing was her unnaturally accented cheekbones, defined only because of drastic weight loss. She had long, dark hair that whipped in the stiff wind, and brown eyes that might have been warm in a previous lifetime. Now they were cold and hardened by time. But even I had to admit that she was very beautiful.

She also had a gun.

"Did you get all his weapons?" she asked her husband in Russian.

"Neither of them are armed," he assured her. "I checked."

She nodded curtly. "Gauron," she acknowledged with a dip of her head.

"Sonja."

"Are you surprised?" she asked, chin raised defiantly.

A shrug. "Not really; nothing is ever black and white when you two are involved. Although I have to admit, I didn't see this coming."

"Yes, it worked out quite beautifully," she remarked, pride evident in her tone.

"Indulge me," he suggested. "Tell me – did you intentionally drug Kashim, or was that a mix-up in the chemistry lab?"

She offered a smirk worthy of him. "Everything is more fun when it's deliberate."

"For your sake," he told her with a deadly smile, "you should have drugged me."

"That might have been fun," she shrugged, "but it wouldn't have surprised me if you'd blown up the city."

"I might do that anyways."

She toyed with the safety on her gun. "Handcuffed? I would like to see that." Her words were coy, and she certainly had a girlish charm to her, but her eyes… they defied her playful manner. Her gaze was steely and even with a smile softening her features, it was clear that she _hated _him.

Raskowitz cleared his throat. "Are you two finished? I assure you, nothing of interest has happened since you last saw each other."

Sonja gave her husband a smile. "Idle small talk," she assured him. "…Where did you get that gun?"

"I stole it off a dead man," he replied, returning her smile.

The joke wasn't lost on me.

"If we're going to stand around and exchange pleasantries," Gauron cut in, "could I at least grab a smoke?"

"You're not going to live long enough to finish it," Raskowitz told him.

"Call it a last request or something."

The duo swapped glances. "I suppose it can't hurt," the Russian shrugged. "Although right now, the both of you need to kneel."

A sleight of the hand, and a cigarette appeared from thin air. "Anyone got a light?" he asked dryly.

A lighter was brandished, and his last request was granted. "Kashim, would you like a cigarette?"

"He doesn't smoke."

"He's got a tongue," Sonja countered. "Let him speak for himself."

I knelt and glared at the ground. "I don't speak Russian," I grumbled, and the look on her face said she didn't speak Japanese, either.

"See? Language barrier," the dead man beside me said cheerfully.

"I wasn't aware it was a problem," she shot back. "I hear from Nick that you rather like playing _translator_."

My face burned, and she smirked. "Maybe he doesn't speak Russian, but he understands it."

"So how's this going to go?" he wondered, ignoring her jab. "Kill him first, make me watch, that sort of thing?"

"We considered it," Raskowitz admitted, "but we really didn't want to let you live any longer than was necessary."

"You're really afraid I'm going to magic myself out of this one, aren't you?" Gauron almost purred. "That means there's a hole in your plan, Nick."

"You won't find it in thirty seconds."

"It's going to take me longer than thirty seconds to smoke this."

"A shame," he responded coldly. "I suppose it will be a waste of a cigarette, then, won't it?"

They glared at each other, banter put aside for one moment of unbridled hatred.

I, meanwhile, had absolutely no idea how we were going to get out of this alive; our odds were getting worse as the minutes crawled by, and I doubted Gauron had any brilliant ideas. His biggest concern at the moment was that damned cigarette.

The smile fell from Sonja's lovely face as she stepped behind me and dug her gun into my skull. "Are you about ready, Nick?" she asked, the steel in her voice making her sound like a completely different woman than before.

"Don't ask me; they're the ones who have an appointment," he shrugged, gesturing to us.

My companion flashed a feral grin. "Do your worst." I could have killed him myself at that point, but instead I tested the bonds at my wrists again – in vain.

"I'm sorry it had to end like this," the Russian said with an eerie finality.

**13**

**Now that we're all caught up:**

There was not even a flicker of fear in his eyes when Raskowitz fired.

Things happened very fast after that.

First off, the gun didn't do what guns were supposed to do. The moment it exploded in the Russian's hand, I recognized that the barrel had been blocked. In the same instant, Gauron's cuffs fell to the ground and with a quick turn, he snatched the gun out of Sonja's hands before she could even react to the explosion.

She never reacted. It was possible that she didn't even blink before there was a bullet between her eyes.

The cuffs on my wrists came next, although it wasn't as clean as his; he merely shot the chain, since there was no key.

The gun lowered to the man on the ground, although it wasn't necessary. There was nothing left of Raskowitz's hand, nothing but bone and too much blood. He lay on his back, gasping and clutching the remains of his hand.

Gauron's eyes burned with triumph. "I offered you your life, Nick," he said, grinning madly.

There was no coherent answer, save an anguished cry.

"Did you think I was joking?" he continued, standing over his fallen foe and catching the man's good hand beneath his foot, grinding it into the ground. "That just because you had the element of surprise, you could still beat me? You just never learned." A sharp twist of his heel.

"Stop it," I told him sharply.

"You can't even beg for your own life," he growled. "Kashim has to do it for you."

"I'm not telling you to let him live," I snapped. "Just get it over with."

He shot me a smoldering gaze. "Never played with your food before? I find that hard to believe."

I narrowed my eyes as I composed myself. "I'm above torture."

"This isn't torture, Kashim," he said, so low that I almost didn't hear him. "Trust me."

"Then hurry it up," I returned shortly, swallowing a shudder and crossing my arms.

"Please," came the agonized gasp from the ground. _"Please_."

"Ah, so you can beg," he sneered. "That's what I like to hear. Ready to join your wife, Nick?"

The Russian moaned her name, trying to curl up around himself – unable to, thanks to the foot pinning his arm to the ground behind him. I merely watched.

"You were right about one thing," he smirked. "I always was going to be the death of her." The gunshot split the cold night air, and then all was quiet again.

I glared at him, although I suspected it was unwise to cross him just yet. "How did you get the cuffs off?"

A predatory grin. "Pin in the filter." He flipped the ash off his cigarette for good measure. "And my mother always said these would kill me."

"Dramatic. I assume you knew the barrel of the gun was blocked?"

"Of course," he rumbled.

"You're lucky he chose to use your gun," I snapped. "Otherwise we'd both be dead." When he approached me this time, I didn't budge – I didn't dare.

"Keeps things interesting," he said by way of explanation. "Impressed?"

"Not really."

"I wouldn't be opposed to a display of gratitude."

"Highly unlikely." I watched him warily; killing gave him some kind of perverse high, and in the throes of it, he was the deadliest man alive. And at the moment, he had me in his sights.

He ran a hand through my hair, and I almost let out the breath I'd been holding – until the hand fisted and yanked my head back, and the still-warm gun dug into my jaw. "Unlikely? That's not very nice," he growled, pulling me to him roughly. "You know, I could make you thank me. I could actually make you do lots of things – _anything_. Are you afraid right now?"

I looked him dead in the eye. "Am I afraid every time you go on one of your insane power trips?"

"You don't think I could kill you, Kashim?"

"No," I lied easily.

"If you die," he told me, digging the gun into my skin and making each word bite just as hard, "then I can promise you that Chidori will die next. With you gone, who's going to protect her from me? -Weber? Right now," he assured me, "I _own _you. I could tell you to do anything, and you would have to do it. Because if you don't, I could shoot you, and then there will be nothing standing in my way – I'll just drag her to whoever will pay the most and leave her to their experiments. Maybe MUSE, maybe Amalgam – who knows… So what can I make you do?" he wondered, twisting the barrel. "What _will _you do, Kashim?"

_He can think of anything_, I realized. _And unless I want him to shoot me – _

His hand lowered and fisted around my collar. "I'm open to suggestions."

I swallowed around the gun and said nothing – there was no right answer. Anything I said could land me on the ground beside Raskowitz and his wife, equally dead.

Slowly, gradually, his grip on me lessened and the pressure from the gun faded, but I didn't back away from him. My eyes were locked on his, waiting for him to see a weakness and strike, but it never came. "This time," he swore softly, lips touching mine and encouraging my mouth open, "I'll play fair. But you keep forgetting… I can get what I want from you any time I please, and you know that nothing you say or do can stop me. And you _like_ it," he added, breath hot and mingling with my own. "But I could also kill you any time I please. It would do you well to remember that."

"You're insane," I hissed, my blood boiling despite the swirling snow.

"You makeme insane," he shot back, and crushed my mouth to his.

**13**

We were like that for too long; the intensity ebbed only when the communicator in my pocket started beeping.

"Kalinin," I realized, but it was lost to his lips.

His hand slipped into my pocket and freed it. "Guess you should answer that," he rumbled.

I flipped it on, but made sure my thumb covered the camera lens. It would be my career and probably my life if he realized –

"Sir," I said, doing my best to sound composed.

"Sergeant. Your mission is being cut short; a situation has come up, and we have a helicopter coming to your current location to intercept you. It will arrive in ten minutes."

"A situation?" I repeated, going cold.

"MUSE," he said shortly. "They have Chidori."

I could give him no answer; there was a sharp blow to the back of my head, and then there was nothing.


	14. A Wrinkle in Time

_Hola, everyone... updating again, if no one minds. :) Be mindful of that last line in the previous chapter. Can't believe I forgot that._

**0140**

_What's the matter, Kashim? Don't you love me?_

I woke suddenly, rigid and angry. "No!" I snarled.

But my surroundings looked nothing like the Russian hotel that I could have sworn I was just in, nor did they look like –

Wait. Hadn't I been on the roof of that Russian hotel?

The eyes upon me now were nothing like the ones that I remembered seeing last. I blinked. I was in the medical wing of the de Daanan. How had that happened? "Kalinin?" Followed by, "…Sir?"

"Good morning, Sergeant," he said calmly. "Do you feel better?"

I stopped and thought about that as I reoriented myself. "I… think so." There was a dull throbbing in my head, but beyond that, my brain was mercifully clear. For the first time in almost… a day? How long had I been out?... I felt normal. The fog that had persistently clouded my thoughts had lifted, and I was no longer distracted by the smallest disturbances around me. The drugs must have worn off. "What happened?"

"When you were recovered, you were unconscious, but not seriously injured," Kalinin explained. "You would have woken on your own not long after, but when you were deposited in the medical wing of the de Daanan, there were traces of a toxin in your bloodstream that we did not recognize, and your brain waves were considerably altered." His eyes returned to the book he had been reading previously. "There was also temporary brain damage consistent with the kind brought on by the use of certain hallucinogens. The toxins in your system, however, failed to match with common street drugs."

"That's because it wasn't a common street drug," I explained. "MUSE has been taking their experiments on the Whispered beyond simply the technological, and some of the things they've been producing are drugs. And Raskowitz," I added darkly, "decided to lace my drink with one of them."

"We noticed that there was a disagreement between your two parties," he remarked dryly.

I tensed, then grabbed the IV needle in my arm to keep it from coming out. "Where is he?"

He knew without hesitation that I didn't mean Raskowitz. "I don't know. He wasn't anywhere in the vicinity when our team arrived to retrieve you. A group would have been dispatched to find him, but we have precious little time to find Miss Chidori."

Betrayal wrenched through my stomach, followed by the wave of comprehension cut short by the blow to my head earlier. "How was she taken?" I asked, quiet and angry.

"She was separated from Major Mao at a train station in Hong Kong. Sergeant Weber was wounded, but aside from some bruises and cuts, he's recovering well. They were outnumbered; we had hoped our decoy would work, but we were wrong. Thanks to the information you secured from Raskowitz, however, we know where they're taking her. That is where the Tuatha de Daanan is headed now."

"Where is that?"

"The Chihuahua Desert, in Mexico. Their home base will only be there for another four days, then they relocate to the wilds of Nigeria. Due to the political situation in that part of the country, we would rather deal with Mexican authorities."

My head spun, and I felt I could only comprehend half of the things he was saying. "Did they hurt her?"

"No," he reassured me, although the unspoken _yet _kept me from being reassured. "They can't afford to; from what we can tell, Chidori holds the exact information that they need. Her knowledge as a Whispered has surfaced most prominently when you are battling an enemy in the Arbalest – Captain Testarossa and I suspect that her mind holds the key to the LAMDA driver. If they get the information they need from her, it might solve the major problem of that device."

"Which is what?"

"It only responds to one pilot in four. We don't know why. Because of that, there are only a handful of people who can even turn it on, and only two pilots in the world who can _fluently_ pilot an Arm Slave with that equipment," he said heavily. "And we can't locate the other one."

My hands fisted around my sheets. "I should have known," I seethed. "There was no way he wouldn't make an attempt to escape – and I virtually _let _him. I didn't consider for even a moment that he would –"

"Sergeant." His voice was firm and invited no interruption. "Until two hours ago, you were at a considerable mental disadvantage; no one will hold you responsible for his escape. You, meanwhile, are lucky that you were not given a higher dose of that substance – any more, and the damage would have been permanent. Your brain would have been more or less melted by the chemicals in the drug – you are very lucky to have survived with little more than an unpleasant memory of the experience."

I took a deep breath. "I would like to be dispatched with the team that goes in after Miss Chidori, sir."

He smiled faintly. "I thought as much. Sergeant Weber and Major Mao have already made the same request. We will notify you an hour before your deployment." Kalinin closed his book and stood up.

"Due to your impaired judgment," he added over his shoulder, "there will be no inquiries over that particular part of your mission. We will need to know everything that happened with Raskowitz and the woman we assume is his wife, but beyond that, our records will consider you out of commission due to personal injury, unless you are aware of any classified information Gauron might have discovered concerning Mithril."

I shook my head. "There's none, sir."

"Good." His eyebrows rose, and with one scorching look, I felt very small and very aware that he was keeping a considerable amount of displeasure hidden from me. "In the meantime, Sergeant, I recommend you wear the scarf Miss Chidori so thoughtfully gave you, to avoid questions."

My stomach dropped through the floor. "Yes, sir," I said when I could find my voice again. He nodded once and departed briskly.

The curtain that kept my bed private from the others in the wing was swept aside, and a sly grin greeted me. "Brrr," Kurz remarked cheerfully. "Frosty!"

"Shut up, Weber," Mao snapped from the chair beside his bed, hitting him with a clipboard.

"Hey, hey, take it easy!" he yelped. "I'm injured!"

"You're injured?" she repeated. "Yeah, right, you get kicked around and you're _dying_. Keep it up, and I'll show you injured." She turned her gaze to me. "How do you feel?"

"Oh, so you're all worried about Sousuke, but let's just throw me to the dogs," he sighed.

"Give me a chance," she threatened. "Just one opportunity, you idiot." Back to me. "Doing better?"

"I suppose," I said glumly. Kalinin's disappointment stung more than Chidori's rolled-up newspaper.

"You look like a kicked puppy," Kurz remarked, only to be smacked with the clipboard again.

"CAN IT, WEBER!" Sympathetic violet eyes returned to me. "Heard you had a rough mission."

"I heard the same about you," I mumbled.

She cringed. "I'm sorry, Sousuke… Kurz went into the bathroom, and when he didn't come out after fifteen minutes, I started to think he'd asked some girl to meet him in there – he was drooling all over some blond bimbo who was waiting for the same train as us. But Miss Kaname didn't want to go into the guy's bathroom, and I just stuck my head in the door so that I didn't leave her out there by herself, and I saw Kurz unconscious on the floor. When I turned around, we were pretty much surrounded. We hadn't noticed anything suspicious; it was pretty cold outside, and everyone was wearing heavy coats, so we couldn't tell if anyone was packing."

I put my head in my hands.

"Three guys jumped me while I was in the bathroom," Kurz added, the humor gone from his face. "I almost had two of them, but then the third one came up behind me, and they pretty much had me."

"We thought we could lose them," she admitted. "We took different trains all around the city to ditch anyone who might have been following us, and then we were going to meet up with some of our guys at a private airport and get Kaname back to Tokyo…"

"I should have been there," I said tightly.

"That wouldn't have changed anything," Mao snapped. "And that's probably why it happened then – they knew you weren't with us."

"D'you think Gauron was in on it?" Kurz wondered.

I shook my head. "Somehow, I doubt it. He knocked me out as soon as Kalinin told us Chidori was gone; if he'd known about it, he would have made sure to tell me. What's the use in betraying someone if you don't get to wallow in your victory?" I sighed.

"Besides," Melissa added, "Tessa said there are still guys from MUSE out looking for him. They want him dead, not alive. I think they'd change the requirements if he helped set that up." Her eyes were sympathetic. "None of this is your fault, Sousuke. You're a lot of things, but psychic isn't one of them."

"You're damn _lucky_, is what you are," Kurz agreed. "What the hell happened with Raskowitz, anyways? I thought they were supposed to be friends."

"Being friends with Gauron doesn't do much for a person's life expectancy," I told him grimly. "There was some bad blood between them – some personal problems involving Raskowitz's wife several years ago. They tried to get revenge, but it backfired." I almost smiled at the pun, but my heart was still too heavy in my chest. I couldn't get Kaname's face out of my head – somehow, I could have helped her. I was certain of it.

Her bad feeling had been dead-on.

"And he drugged you?" Kurz chuckled. "Last I heard, you didn't punish someone by making them trip out. Where I come from, that's more like a recreational thing. Although normally you don't really know how to have fun."

"Shut up, Kurz," Mao snapped absently.

He raised his hands in surrender. "Okay, sorry. I forgot – you have some fun schedule for February."

"Shut _up_, Kurz!"

"In enemy territory," I said shortly, "it's a weakness. If I'd been on top of my game… lots of the things that happened, wouldn't have happened."

"Yeah, we noticed," he grinned, waving my scarf for emphasis. "Or would that have happened anyways?"

I turned crimson, and Melissa raised the clipboard warningly. "Want another one, asshole?" she threatened.

Almost as an afterthought, she swung the clipboard and hit meacross the head. "By the way, have you gone insane?" she snapped. "This doesn't look like you're keeping the situation under control!" _She sounds just like Chidori_, I thought.

"Hey, he was trippin', yo," Kurz snickered. "You never know – maybe he just hallucinated those things."

"_Things?_" I repeated.

"Your neck," Melissa said darkly. "You've got some new ones."

"Who else saw?" I demanded.

"Just us, Peggy, and Kalinin. Your jacket covered them when they brought you in."

I gave up. "Oh."

"At least you had fun," Kurz offered.

I didn't look at him.

"Sousuke, you did what you were supposed to do," she sighed. "We needed the skinny from Raskowitz, and you got it. Now we know where to find Kaname. If you two hadn't gone to Russia, we wouldn't even know where to start looking. They might have killed her by the time we found her."

"They might anyways," I said grimly. "MUSE isn't easy on the Whispered – when they've gotten what they need from her, they'll dispose of her."

"Knowing Kaname, that might take awhile," Kurz grinned. "She put up a fight last time, didn't she? I don't see them cracking her on the first try."

"If she proves herself useless, they'll kill her and go after someone else," I snapped. "We have to find her before they start their experiments."

"Don't they have to find out what… um… kind of Whispered she is first?" he countered.

Melissa rolled her eyes. "Don't you even know how to eavesdrop? Kalinin just said that she probably has information on how to perfect the LAMDA driver, which is probably exactly what they're after. I know our tech teams would shit themselves if they could figure that out. If we could fill in the blanks and fix the glitches, then we could equip all our mechs with one. The three of us are pretty dangerous with just our M-9's – it's even harder when Sousuke has the Arbalest. Imagine if all three of us had weapons like that."

I tensed. "It would be a disaster. Those things are too unreliable to depend on in battle. If it doesn't turn on, then you're just another fighter in a multi-billion dollar robot."

"It was only once that you couldn't get your LAMDA driver to work," she reminded me.

"And you could have been killed," I shot back. "If it's too heavily relied upon in battle, other vital skills go stale, and when it fails to work, you're left at a disadvantage. I'm _glad _it only works for two people," I said coldly.

Kurz shrugged. "So don't let your fine-ass combat skills get all rusty. Then, when you inevitably have to fight Gauron again, you've still got an advantage."

"I don't have an advantage," I sighed. "I never did. He's been in combat far longer than I have; one of these days, I'm going to lose."

"I think you have an advantage," he replied smoothly. "You went to Russia with the guy and survived with nothing but a bump on the head – the real danger was from someone else. I don't think you would have lived through that if you didn't have something in your favor."

I ground my teeth. "He tormented me for two days straight."

He grinned. "See? Advantage! If he kills you, who's he gonna play with?"

"If that's supposed to be reassuring," Melissa scowled, "it's not working."

"How are we going to retrieve Chidori?" I asked, changing the subject.

They exchanged glances. "That's where it gets hairy," Melissa admitted. "There was just a huge cocaine bust on the border, so the Americans have shut down all the crossover points we were going to use. We're going to have to approach this place from the south, which means we have to take a train to the rendezvous point. Kalinin thinks we're going to have a tough time keeping a low profile, since none of us are Mexican, and if we have three huge train cars dragging our mechs behind us, we're probably screwed. So we're going to meet our AS's just outside the restricted zone."

I frowned. "I don't like it."

"None of us do," Kurz grumbled. "I mean, we'll be totally packing, but… I just keep thinking that someone's gonna hijack our machines before we can get to them, and then we'll be stranded until someone comes to rescue us."

"In the Mexican desert," Melissa agreed. "Our AS's will be coming down through Acunia in ECS mode and they'll be waiting for us when we get there."

Kurz rolled his eyes. "It's actually easier to smuggle three humongous machines across the border than it is three foreigners. _Mexico_."

"Hey, don't knock it," she shot back. "As soon as we get Chidori back, I swear I'm going to Acunia, getting drunk, and passing out." At my disapproving look, she added, "Once she's safely back on the sub, I mean."

"I hear it's quite the party town," Kurz agreed, perking. "D'you think the captain would let us?"

"She has to," Mao decided. "After the absolute shit we've gone through lately, there's no way she can say no."

I continued to disapprove silently.

"Dude, you don't have to go," Kurz sighed. "If you want, you can just stay on the sub and shadow Chidori around and make sure no one bumps into her for two days straight."

"It's unwise to leave yourselves exposed and intoxicated in enemy territory," was all I had to say about it.

Kurz glanced at Melissa. "All this negativity," he said mournfully. "Guess I shouldn't have mocked Fun February."

She snorted in spite of herself, but recovered quickly. "Don't be a douchebag," she finally snapped. "He knows what he's talking about – didn't his last mission just go awry because of that?"

"That was only part of it," Kurz returned. "I think Gauron being a crazy son of a bitch was a bigger part."

My mind flashed back to that last impossible situation – handcuffed, unarmed, lined up for execution. "His insanity is the only reason we're still alive," I sighed, and proceeded to explain to them the situation we had been in, and how we got out.

Kurz gave a low whistle.

"He's out of his fucking mind," Mao declared finally. "That's not a gamble; that's a bluff, and it's a _crazy _one. I can't believe you actually survived that."

Kurz was shaking his head. "It wasn't a complicated situation with a whole lot of variables," he agreed. "Those are usually the ones that get professionals killed. And… yeah. He's fucking lost it."

"He never had it to begin with," I grumbled.

"You can sure pick them," he said wryly.

I didn't answer him. _I didn't pick him_, I wanted to tell him. _Somehow, he chose me._ But I still said nothing. And the twist of resent that usually followed that thought was completely absent.

"He's certainly insane," I agreed after a long silence.

_But you love me anyways_.

I folded my arms and tried to relax. Even when he was gone, he… wasn't.

Whether he was involved in Chidori's capture or not, I was certain that I hadn't heard the last of him yet.

My thoughts drifted again to Chidori. We wouldn't be too late – we _couldn't _be. I knew that logically, my presence wouldn't have kept her from being taken – it might have even resulted in someone getting seriously hurt, if I thought about it. But responsibility was impossible to shake, and it was my responsibility to get her back. If I owed it to no one else, I owed it to her.

As for Gauron – I would cross that bridge when I came to it.

All I could do for now was wait.


	15. An Adventure

The call came in the middle of the night – we were to grab all the supplies we'd need for civilian travel, load a case up with all the artillery we'd need in case of an emergency, and report to the launch deck. We were six miles out in the Gulf of Mexico, and a special ops helicopter would deposit us discreetly not far from the train station. From there, it would be a seven-hour ride to the station south of the Del Rio/Acunia border checkpoint, where our machines would be waiting for us. And once we were in our mechs, it was merely an issue of getting beyond the restricted zone and infiltrating the base.

I studied a topographic map of the region as we flew over the gulf; the landscape was relatively uncomplicated, but sharp hills and plateaus dotted the region, mere shadows of the mountains not too far from there. The base was hidden deep in one of the jagged hills, and from what I could see, there were only three logical entrances.

I narrowed my eyes. A heat scanner showed that there were a number of man-made caves dug out by drug runners in decades past, leading directly to elevators that sunk several hundred feet beneath the arid land and into a massive underground complex. A printout from the Mexican branch of Mithril showed the part of the complex that was most likely to house prisoners, and to our good fortune, it was right beside a lab of sorts. The data indicated that the lab had previously been used to convert cocaine and other substances into their marketable forms, and there didn't seem to be a more ideal place to run whatever kind of experiments were run on the Whispered.

I rolled up the many loose papers I had with me and stuffed them into my bag once we landed and made our silent way to the train station. The only words exchanged were tense; each of us was preparing to go into high gear. There was little room for distraction.

"I didn't know Mexico's railway system had improved much in the last ten years," Kurz remarked.

"It hasn't," Mao replied, shouldering the bag of ammunition.

He sighed. "Figures."

Little else was said.

**0150**

Once the train got off to its rickety start, we chose a private compartment and settled in for the lengthy trip, and I pulled out all the data and laid it out again.

I circled the hill that hid MUSE's base and cleared my throat. "It's a ten-mile trek south from our AS pickup point to the base, and there are no viable entrances from that direction. On the west side, however, is an abandoned shaft I assume was used for mining purposes, and satellite readouts from the last few days show that no one comes or goes from that way. One of us will most likely be able to slip in from that side and report back to the others on the possibility of entering from there. We won't be able to go in immediately, since we know little about the layout, but that entrance is also directly above the detention ward and what looks like a laboratory. Both of those locations could possibly be where Chidori is being held."

"I don't like one of us having to go in there alone," Kurz said with a shake of his head.

"We can't afford to bring anyone else," Mao sighed. "Any of our guys would just be four obvious foreigners instead of three, and we're pushing it already. Plus, Mithril's Mexican unit wasn't willing to do more than give us the information they had on the base; apparently they're worried about MUSE blowing Mexico City off the map, since they're so technologically challenged that they can't really defend themselves. We're going to have to make do with what we've got."

"Any more people, and we would just be weighed down," I agreed. "I would like to be the one who infiltrates the base, which would leave you and Major Mao keeping an eye out on the surface."

"Still don't like you going in there alone."

"It's a one-man job," I shot back. "If either of you came with me, we would be too obvious, and that would leave someone on the surface without backup."

"If anyone can do it, it's Sousuke," Mao put in.

I acknowledged the praise silently. There was still a corner of my mind that refused to be pacified; I could feel something very wrong around us, but I couldn't figure out _what_. Mao and Kurz had donned black wigs and contacts in an effort to blend a little better, and so far I was sure we hadn't been spotted as intruders. But there was still something… wrong. No matter how long I looked at the map, or how acquainted I made myself with the terrain we'd be crossing, there was still some variable making me uncomfortable. And the worst part was that I simply couldn't figure out what I was missing.

Melissa sighed and flopped out on the stained mattress. "I'll give them this, at least Mexico's made train cars within the last fifteen years. I hated having to ride them in North Korea."

"Why would you take a train in North Korea?" Kurz demanded. "That's like really uncomfortable suicide."

"That's classified," she shot back. "I could tell you, but I'd have to kill you."

"You know I love it when you talk dirty."

"You don't want to make the next six hours the most miserable hours of my life, Weber," she warned. "Because we can run this operation with just two people."

He flashed a charming smile. "You wound me, babe."

"You call me _babe_ again and I swear I'm gonna –"

I coughed. "Kurz, perhaps we should head to the dining car and find something to eat. There might not be another chance once we arrive."

"At least someone on this mission doesn't have a death wish," she grumbled. "Get him the hell out of my hair, Sagara. We could do it alone, but the idiot's the best shot of us all."

I stepped into the corridor and dragged Kurz with me. "We'll be back," he promised.

She glowered at him. "Bring me a whiskey sour."

In the hallway, he shot me a knowing glance. "She only drinks whiskey sour when she's getting all hormonal," he said wisely. "That's why she's a little testy right now. When she's in a better mood, she'll just go for straight-up beer, but I think the carbonation messes with her sometimes."

I shook my head. "It's none of my business."

"I figured that you of all people would pick up on these things, since you're around women so much," he remarked. "Doesn't Kaname have some warning signs?"

I thought about it for a moment. "I suppose so. Every three and a half weeks she goes from hitting me to throwing things at me. But that phase only lasts a few days, and then she's back to normal."

"I'm so glad your relationship with her is healthy," he deadpanned. "These days, people tend to get themselves into situations where a friend or family member is physically abusive, and they just don't know how to deal with it."

I ignored him; he always went into a good humor before a mission. It might have been his way of easing my tension. Or it was his way of easing his own tension. It was anyone's guess.

The dining car didn't look like the most sanitary place I'd ever been, but it wasn't the worst, either. And since it was the only smoking section on the train, the air was thick with ten different kinds of smoke – only six of which were familiar to me.

We sat down at a table in the corner and placed our orders with the waiter – Cerveza for Kurz, Mao's whiskey sour, and water for me. Food would be later.

Kurz wrinkled his nose. "God, I hate cigars."

"Wholly unpleasant," I agreed.

He made another face. "I think they all smell like shit, especially these – whatever they are."

"I actually suspect that several of them are very good cigars," I countered. "That doesn't make it more appealing, but I believe I smell a Cuban in here somewhere."

His eyebrows rose. "How do you know what a Cuban smells like? You don't even smoke."

I glanced at him, my face carefully blank. "I know people who do. I suppose I picked up an appreciation for them by association."

He sighed and took his beer when our drinks arrived. "More than likely, I don't want to know."

I shrugged and sniffed my drink, wary in the aftermath of Raskowitz. Upon closer inspection, I suspected that while there were no drugs in the water, I didn't want to know what _was_.

"Don't get too picky about the water down here," Kurz added. "I hear it's lethal."

"No worse than Russian water," I muttered. At his confusion, I continued, "That was how I was drugged in Moscow."

"Ah. Well, I guarantee that your water is totally, completely, 100 Mexican sewage," he promised solemnly. "No man-made drugs of any sort."

I sighed. I knew he was being melodramatic, and the water probably came from a bottle, but it served to quench my thirst before I'd taken a drink.

"So," he said curiously, "what did you see when you tripped?"

I frowned. "I don't really know for certain. Everything around me was very vibrant, and I was extremely paranoid until Gauron knocked me unconscious – but I suppose I didn't really see anything new. I merely looked at everything from a different perspective."

"Did you like it?"

"No."

He leaned back. "I guess you weren't really in a very good environment for it."

"Have you done it before?"

"Nah, but I had some friends when I was younger who experimented with it. They said it was the coolest shit they'd ever done."

"They probably weren't in danger of being shot from three different angles at the time."

"Probably not," he agreed.

We sat quietly for a long time before anything else was said.

"What will you do when you see him again?" he asked after awhile.

I took in his choice of words silently: when. Not if.

"A week ago, I would kill him," I finally admitted. "Now I… believe my judgment is clouded."

"Before I jumped in with Mithril," he said casually, taking a long sip of beer as he got comfortable, "I was dating this girl back in Wurzburg. My dad banned me from seeing her, because her family was on the run from Berlin – it was right after Mithril came in and knocked the Communists out of power there, so all the Reds had to go running somewhere. If they were real high-profile people, they were forced to go somewhere like Russia or the Middle East to keep from being tried for war crimes, but the minor supporters didn't have to go as far. Her family was just hiding out until things blew over… but they were definitely Communists.

"Anyways, the fact that my dad told me to stay away from her just made her that much more appealing," he continued. "We never listened to our parents; we'd go down to the firing range all the time, sneak out at night, stuff like that. When I threw in with Mithril, I asked her to come with me – she didn't, and I didn't really think she would. But it never hurt to try, right? So after I left, I figured I'd never see her again."

"Did you?"

He didn't answer at first, choosing instead to nurse his beer for a long moment. "Remember when they sent us to North Africa to deal with that terrorist cell?"

I nodded.

"She was there," he explained. "She was a sniper."

My eyebrows rose – I remembered his comment about the sniper. He had been setting up a shot, and the long piece of grass he'd been chewing on was shot off.

_Shit, he's one good son of a bitch,_ he'd remarked later.

"She came and found me later on, after we were forced into an early retreat the first day. Still cute as ever," he added wistfully. "Anyways, we did some catching up that night, had too much to drink, that sort of thing. Next day we had to blow the stronghold off the map."

He had also been shot from three-quarters of a mile away. We'd had to wrap the mission up quickly and get him to any doctor we could find before he died.

"You never mentioned that while we were there," I said finally.

He shrugged. "Didn't really want to talk about it. I still wonder if she's out there – I did some math later, worked out the trajectory of the shot in comparison to my position and alignment, and she wasn't on the base when you and Mao Napalmed it. She was about a quarter-mile west when it blew. I keep thinking that maybe she'll just show up randomly one day – but at the same time, I kind of hope she won't."

"What would you do if you saw her again?"

A grin. "Something pretty stupid. 'Course, I'm not in love with her – we were just kids back then. But sometimes I wish I had another chance."

I was impressed. It sounded nothing like the Kurz I knew – for a few minutes, he was deep, insightful, and obviously premeditated. "So do you get what I'm trying to tell you?" he asked finally.

"I understand why you told me."

"Not the same thing."

I looked away. "What you're talking about is treason. I - _you_ could have gotten in real trouble."

His eyes were intense. "Why? I did my job in the end. Didn't get in the way of what I was trying to do. Besides, you make it sound like we're our own country, swearing allegiance to a flag or whatever."

I shifted under his gaze. "Have you forgotten that he tried to kill you?"

"So did she," he shrugged. "And frankly, I've tried to kill a lot of people too. Don't get me wrong, this could be the worst advice I've ever given you, and I hate the son of a bitch. But you're another story, dude. You're my friend, and I know you can't see what this is doing to you, but I can. I know you have a thousand reasons to blow him off the face of the earth – I'd like nothing more than to bust a cap in his ass, myself. He's an asshole and he deserves to die." Now his voice was wry. "But somehow, he hooked you. I've seen drug addicts fare better than you are right now – how long has it been since you really slept? Or ate? You haven't been _really _okay since Helmajistan – no, since before that. You haven't been okay since the hijacking. You've been freaking out the entire time."

I ground my teeth. "It's not because –"

Kurz waved me off. "Don't start. I've seen how everything else in the world gets to you, and nothing gets to you like he does. We're all worried, okay?"

"I'm fine."

"You're _not _fine. Sure, the world would definitely be a better place if he'd go six feet under. But I think he might take you with him."

"I don't want to discuss this right now," I said with quiet steel.

He wasn't swayed. "Too bad. I think you'd better figure out what you're going to do when you see him again, and fast, because you don't have as much time to brood on it as you think."

I narrowed my eyes. "So why tell me this now?"

"Because I don't think Melissa would benefit from this conversation."

"Wrong answer."

"It's like I said – I'm worried about you. You _have _to deal with him. You've been running away from it for months now, and I've never seen you run from anything," he returned coldly. "You're supposed to be invincible, remember? Get a grip on yourself. You've got two options: you can either blow his brains out, or you can shoot him."

I frowned. "That makes no…"

A sly grin spread across his face as he waited patiently. The implication sank in after a moment, and I glared at him. "You are not amusing," I said tightly, trying to keep my face blank.

"Kidding," he grinned. "But no, really, I'm making a point. You're either going to shoot him, or let him live. Just make sure that whatever you do, it's what you really want to do. If you kill him, make sure you want him dead. If you don't kill him…" He sighed. "Make sure you really want him alive."

He stood up sharply and grabbed Melissa's whiskey. I started to stand as well, but he shook his head.

"Think on it awhile before you come back," he said grimly. "You don't need to have anything distracting you tomorrow, so get this sorted out first."

I sat back down heavily. "You don't know what you're saying."

"Sure I do. Just don't make me regret it," he shrugged.

I pushed my water across the table and folded my arms. "Very well."

"I want you to understand that this is as hard for me as it is for you," he added, turning to walk out. "Maybe harder, since I think I know a little bit more than you do right now."

I tried not to roll my eyes. "Affirmative."

As he walked out, I heard him grumble, "Melissa's going to kill me."

**0150**

Thinking about Gauron was the last thing I wanted to do, but Kurz's words stalked me: I didn't run from a challenge. I was a strategist, a professional, and professionals didn't run away. Retreat was only acceptable in extreme situations.

I waved a face-full of cigar smoke away in annoyance. Kurz's timing was certainly off today; this was not the time for me to think about him.

But I didn't know for a fact I wanted him dead.

Actually, I _did _know for a fact I didn't want him dead.

I sighed. Feelings were not my particular specialty – give me any gun ever built and I was lethal, but alone with a mass of confusing thoughts and conflicting emotions, and I was useless.

I surveyed the car suspiciously, my hand on my gun as I did so. One thing I would never take for granted again was my weapon; it was probably better that I locked myself away from anything lethal in Moscow, but now that I 'had all my oars in the water,' as Kurz put it, I would occasionally reach down just to make sure it was there, and relax slightly.

It was not because I was off my guard that it happened; I was alert and aware of everyone in the car around me, and I was confident that very little would take me by surprise. But it was as I'd told Melissa: when it came to Gauron, he had far more experience in combat situations than I did, and since he was a spy, he could move across a war-torn country as silently as he could move across a room. He was found only when he wanted to be found, seen only when he chose to be seen.

That knowledge only offered hollow comfort later; it was a grim realization on my part that if he didn't want me to see him, I wouldn't see him, no matter how highly my senses were tuned.

It made no difference at that moment, however. My hand slid comfortably around my gun, too late to save myself if he chose to shoot first.

Gray eyes shone with a malicious amusement as he stepped right into my line of sight and flashed a grin at my face.

"You could at least _pretend _like you're happy to see me, Kashim."


	16. A Reality Check

_AN: Yeah, I know, you don't even wanna know what's going on in RL. Let's just call it a… break. Only there was no real relaxing accomplished._

_In this chapter: Deals are offered, decisions are made, and then Gauron reminds everyone that he's a bad, bad man, in case anyone's forgotten._

**0160**

His gun lay on the table between us, in plain view of the entire car. If people had to pass by us, they did so quickly and made sure to avert their eyes. He spun it idly, almost randomly, but every now and then his hand would freeze it, finger on the trigger and aiming directly at me. It was a casual way for Gauron to ensure that he was at least somewhat amused, and it was a way to remind me that even if I had my finger on the trigger, he'd still get off the first shot.

It was strained silence at first; he smoked a cigarette with decided boredom and made no move to instigate conversation. I sat with my own gun trained on him under the table and remained determinedly silent.

After a while, the tension lessened, and it simply became a silent stalemate. I suspected he was enjoying himself a great deal. The cigarette burned down quickly, and the stench of seared filter put itself on the list of unpleasant things I could smell.

I folded my arms. He flipped ash from his cigarette absently.

"Gauron – "

A hiked eyebrow silenced me again, and he pulled a hefty manila folder from inside his coat. It hit the table between us with a thud, and after straightening the contents again, he opened it with a flourish.

"Sousuke Sagara, sergeant," he read aloud finally. "Born in Okinawa to a single mother, later moved to Afghanistan to pursue a nomadic life of guerilla warfare and glamour." A smirk. "After Nick said he read your file, I got curious. I mean, I've never read your file, and we've known each other for _years_."

"How did you obtain –"

"It's pretty extensive," he continued, ignoring me. "Covers every skirmish you've gotten into since you joined Mithril. Did you know you enlisted only two weeks after our good buddy Andrey was invited into the club? Funny timing you two have."

I watched him coolly. "I assumed you were aware of the fact that Kalinin is the reason I was allowed to enlist at my age."

Annoyance was visible on his face for a fraction of a second, and then his eyes returned to the folder's contents. "The more I read about you, Kashim, the more I wonder how Mithril thinks they know anything about you. As a matter of fact –" he flipped through it briefly. "I think they made some of this stuff up. Is that really your birthday?"

I frowned and looked at the sheet. "No."

"I didn't think so. The year looks off, too."

"It is."

"Fascinating stuff," he remarked. "A little bit like a novel. But you are more skilled than most in the Arm Slave department; I guess they got that much right."

"And I was born in Okinawa," I put in.

Gauron snapped the folder shut. "If we compare our records, I'll bet we've either faced each other in battle or come close to it at least seventy percent of the time. But as you guessed, I'm not here for idle chit-chat."

I nodded once and waited.

A server placed a shot of something clear and foul-smelling in front of him, and he downed it immediately. "You're planning on entering MUSE's base through the abandoned cargo hold."

I stiffened. "I can't divulge that information."

He shrugged. "Whatever you say; but just so you know, it's a bad idea."

He was baiting me, I was sure of it. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Listen." He stood and moved to my side of the table, and sat down as though the chair had his name on it. "I don't give information for free, so we'll call this… advice." An arm dropped across the back of my chair, and I dislodged it instantly.

"Don't," I snapped quickly, rising to my feet.

He grabbed a handful of my shirt in one hand and stuck the gun in my ribs with the other. "Shooting you isn't part of my plan," he said conversationally, "yet. So sit down, shut up, and don't make me get a move on it, all right? I'm just trying to help." The smile that followed was chilling enough to reassure me that I was simply going to have to wait until the opportune moment to go on the offensive.

"You don't help anyone for free," I said between clenched teeth.

"We'll worry about settling the score later. Now," he continued, "I can understand why you'd assume that the old cargo hold is the best idea, but you know what happens when you assume. If it were me –" and here he pulled out another cigarette, "-I would go in through this old east-to-west waste pipeline. Especially if I were trying to reach the detention ward. Of course… that's just me."

"How can I be sure you're not leading me into a trap?" I challenged, curious as to what excuse he might feed me, and all the guiltier for that curiosity.

"That's easy, Kashim. You can't. All you can do is assume it's a trap and spring it," he replied easily. "If you enter through the cargo hold, you'll be spotted before you even walk in, and you'll be sharing a cell right next to Chidori if that happens. So you'll just have to take my word for it – does that freak you out enough?"

I regarded him coolly. "That is hardly the most disturbing thing you've suggested in the last eight years."

He laughed merrily. "No, I'd imagine not. This is going to be fun, Kashim."

"It's understood that you have a different definition of _fun_."

Gauron lit the cigarette finally and flashed me a predatory smile. "No," he decided as the match burned nearly down to his fingers, "it's going to be fun." And then he blew it out dramatically.

I stood. "I'll be comparing your information to the blueprints. If you're lying about the waste line, I'll find out."

"What's even more frightening is that I could be telling the truth," he countered. "You think I'm orchestrating a trap? I'll go in with you. Good faith, and all."

"NO."

"Perfect." He collected the folder and stood as well, towering over me but failing to really intimidate me. "And you know what else works out so great? There's a nice, shiny AS parked in the hills not too far from the base with my name on it. Handy, right?"

"Very." Only fitting, I supposed, and not surprising.

"That said… your friend Weber might not be as much of as idiot as he pretends to be. Although I've got bad news about that sharp-shooting girlfriend of his."

"I doubt he truly thought she was alive," I reminded him defensively, also not surprised that he had been eavesdropping.

"Oh, don't get me wrong, she survived the explosion he was talking about. She died of TB later– she'd contracted it as a child from her mother, who died of it when she was six. That was about five weeks ago. Technically, she was dying when she was doing the job in Egypt."

I frowned. "Could Kurz have – no. Germany vaccinated all infants born west of the Berlin Wall. Is that how she missed the shot? She was born on the wrong side of Berlin?"

"She was actually born in Leningrad. They don't have the best medical team in the world."

"I remember," I said dryly. The doctors I had encountered in Leningrad had been under the unwavering impression that extensive swelling around a gunshot wound on my foot was cause for amputation; they felt there was nothing they could do. Fortunately, when Kalinin told someone to do (or not do) whatever he said, they tended to listen, and so my foot remained.

"You'll stay in touch, I assume." It sounded to me like I was sealing my own fate.

His good mood set me positively on edge. "I'll do better than that, Kashim. Where's your compartment?"

"_No_."

**0160**

"Have you lost your mind?" Mao nearly screeched, her whiskey sour obviously not quelling her temper.

"Major, I –"

"Don't you 'Major-I' me," she snapped.

"Melissa? If you don't stop screaming at him, then there's no reason to leave a terrorist unsupervised in the hallway, because I'm pretty sure he can hear you," Kurz put in meekly.

She cleared her throat. "I'm sorry. I must not have made myself clear. HAVE YOU LOST YOUR FUCKING MIND, SOUSUKE? Has your common sense gone on vacation, checked out – what? I don't need to bring up the numerous reasons I'm not okay with this, because I'm pretty sure THOSE ARE THE SAME REASONS MITHRIL HAS for wanting him dead! It's one thing to have history. But to keep giving him opportunities to prove everyone right is insanity," she raged. "It's not just your life you're risking, do you understand? I can take care of myself, and Kurz can take care of his stupid self, but what about Chidori? What if you get in there and realize we've all been set up?"

"Major…" I waited for her to cut me off again, but when she didn't, I continued. "I don't know why he's doing this. I am as aware as anyone why he can't be trusted; I feel my last mission was testament to it. But I –" I hated the words that were about to come out of my mouth. Despised them. But there was simply no other way to explain it. "I have survived this long by trusting my instinct, and right now it's telling me that this is not a trap. I have no solid proof to back this up…" In fact, all the proof I had technically went against my feeling. "But I give you my word that I will not allow this to get out of hand."

"You need to understand how this looks, Sousuke," she disagreed hotly. "It looks _bad_. If the Mithril big-wigs walked in the door right now and asked what was going on, you'd be screwed. I'm not accusing you of letting him get away after he hijacked the plane, or after the mission to Helmajistan – every time you square off, you've done everything in your power to finish him. But not everyone knows that, and after the last few weeks, someone might accuse you of just that. All I know is that he practically died on our doorstep and you saved his life. Then, when you were injured, he wouldn't let anyone even _think _about you, let alone touch you – no one but him. And now? You start showing up with that scarf Chidori knitted so that no one figures out that there are _still _things going on between you, you run off on a mission that should have gone to someone else and don't understand why everyone's worried, then you're picked up at the rendezvous alone, and now you're suggesting that not only do we let him run free, we bring him along on this mission and enlist his help –"

"Melissa!" Kurz cut in. "You know what happened in Moscow –"

"I know, and you know," she snapped back, "but if a formal investigation were ever opened, no one but us would buy it. We only believe it because we know Sousuke, and have you ever seen him when he tries to lie? _Shameful_," she informed me with a weak smile. Then she sighed. "I guess we could sort of… I don't know, unofficially take him back into custody, write in the report that we made him help us, or we just wanted to keep an eye on him."

"Great idea, boss. You wanna be the one to try that?" Kurz muttered. "Because I'm sure as hell not walking out there and saying, 'Hey, you don't mind if we take you prisoner again, right?'"

She glowered. "Got a better idea? I do, but no one wants to hear it."

"Hey, baby, I _always_ want to hear," he told her solemnly.

She ignored the endearment. "I'd be more comfortable if we just killed him. I can't believe we're at a point where that idea is _debatable_, let alone dropped without discussion," she added darkly.

"It goes beyond all things military," Kurz sighed. "If we were just going by the book, then yeah, I'd shoot him. In fact, I might do that even if we deviated from the book a little. But it's kind of complicated. He knows this base, we don't. If we don't take his offer, we run the risk of being sold out in exchange for the 'Wanted: Dead only' bounty on his head. This is double-dealing at its most intricate."

"You make it sound like an art form," Melissa grumbled.

From outside the door, "It is."

She steamed visibly at Kurz's 'told-you-so' look. "So are you suggesting that we just… open the door, let him in, give him access to all our mission data and say, 'Okay, go for it.'"

Kurz lowered his voice enough that Gauron would have to strain to hear him. "Between us," he said softly, "I'd rather have his gun aimed at someone else for awhile. You guys know that we'd be dead if he hadn't been at Jindai with us – for whatever reason, he's willing to play for our team. I think we should get what we can out of him. If he screws us over, then we'll compensate, but I wouldn't complain if maybe the enemy of our enemy was our friend for awhile."

"I hate it when you're rational," Mao gritted in annoyance. "You're a fucking idiot ninety percent of the time, and then – when I'm _convinced _that you have no idea what you're talking about – you rationalize your standpoint."

"And then I make you realize that the only reason you're freaking out about this is because you can't get over the fact that he's a globally-renowned terrorist," he agreed brightly. "If you ask me, I think you're overreacting."

"Are you three done in there, or should I set an egg timer?" drifted Gauron's voice from the hallway, thin and annoyed.

"Shut up," Mao told him promptly. "We'll let you know when we're ready for you."

Then, to us, "Well. We're up shit creek without a paddle. What do we do now?"

"Buy the son of a bitch a drink," Kurz said mournfully.

"Tequila on the rocks," he called in cheerfully. "With an olive instead of a lime."

"Gee, and I was thinking cheap beer," Kurz grumbled.

"Hey, when in Rome."

"I'm really starting to regret this," he decided. Then, "What's this going to cost us?"

"I'm still thinking about it."

"Get in here," Melissa called sharply. "And put your piece on the table."

He stepped into our compartment, radiating triumph. "That didn't take as long as I thought it would. I had you pegged at two hours."

Melissa's glare was cold. "Not much to argue about, except maybe our sanity. When I boil it down, I don't exactly see you as the type to _really _give us an option. So if we don't have another choice, what's there to discuss?"

He thought about it for a moment. "You make a good point. Takes most people two hours to figure it out."

"Put your weapon on the table," I repeated, quiet but firm.

"Kashim. I hope you didn't think _you_ were making up the rules, did you?" he smirked. "Because here's the thing: I'm not your prisoner. Outside your Arm Slaves, none of you have a hope of restraining or controlling me, and even if we _did _bring the big lugs into the picture, you'd be the only one with a shot at subduing me, and that would be both messy and conspicuous. Since you three are outnumbered by MUSE's troops and this operation can only succeed if no one knows you're there till you're gone, then you'll have to make sure that I don't ever get the urge to bring their attention to you. So no, I don't think I'll be putting my gun on the table," he replied, clipped and businesslike. "I think you kids are playing _my _game now. There's no Mithril to back you up out here, and Miss Berlin is right about one thing: you don't want me gunning for you." He turned to me, a malicious glimmer in his eyes. "They especially don't, because while you have a knack for survival, your over-enthusiastic companions don't usually have a very long shelf life."

He might as well have punched me, but I gave him no indication that his words had hit home.

"You son of a –" Kurz made a move to step in, face coloring angrily, but I grabbed him quickly.

"You can be a hero, blondie," Gauron warned him, "but you seem to have forgotten that every major law enforcement agency in the world, from the CIA to the KGB, refers to me as the most dangerous man alive. They don't know you from Joe Blow. I've killed a hell of a lot of people to make sure that distinction is mine alone; you'd just be another notch on the bedpost. So my first piece of advice is this: don't fuck with me." His smile might almost have been considered… friendly.

"I thought you said we were going to work together," Melissa seethed softly.

"Are you sure I said that?" he wondered. "Huh. I guess that makes me a liar, then, doesn't it?"

She was pale and tight-lipped with anger. "I guess it does." Kurz's face clearly read, _Remind me why I thought this might be advantageous again?_

He lit a cigarette, the first I'd seen him smoke since we'd left the dining car – which was a feat, because I hadn't seen him without at least one in Moscow. "Now don't get me wrong," he continued, "I'm not here to interfere with your precious team chemistry or anything – just pretend I'm your absentee landlord. The only way we'll run into any trouble is if one of you two –" to Kurz and Melissa – "gets a hero complex and makes me martyr you. As long as you remember that I'm older than you, smarter than you, and always one step ahead of you, then we'll get along just fine." A victorious smirk. "That's how it goes when you roll with me. Got it?"

Mao was the one who accepted his extended hand, although her face indicated that she'd rather grab a live wire. "Got it. It's hard to misunderstand a deal with the devil."


	17. A Line in the Sand

_AN: Angry Inch reference hidden within. Smooch. See? Told you I was still lurking._

**0170**

At no time had I ever been foolish enough to consider Melissa unintelligent. Quite the contrary, I'd always held her in the highest regard and assumed that she had attained her rank through her finesse on the battle field – especially since she so blatantly lacked people skills. With all due respect, I had never stopped to ponder her intellectual qualifications, or even wonder if she had any. I only knew that when we were in a tight situation, there were few people I trusted as much as Mao, in spite of the fact that she was often rude, abrasive, loud, and – more often than not – drunk.

I realized that night that she was also brilliant.

I'd considered myself a particularly skilled strategist, but to listen to Mao sit and re-design our entire game plan with a gun discreetly trained on her, stubbornly holding her ground against a man she would 'sell her ovaries to see dead' (as she'd so eloquently put it), was an experience I'd not been privy to yet. It was easy to understand why Kurz pursued her shamelessly; at the moment, she was all fire and brimstone in a very pretty package.

And she was angry.

"You're not going in with him," she said flatly. "It's a one-man job. Our goal isn't to engage the entire fucking facility, we just need him to –"

"He needs someone at his back, if he's going to worry about covering Chidori," Gauron overrode seamlessly. "You might be strong when it comes to watching your flank, but he's not batting a thousand back there."

The demeaning innuendos had taken a toll on Kurz after awhile. "If I hear one more joke about watching his –" he began valiantly.

He was easily talked over. "Kashim, where'd I shoot from when you snuck into our camp and contaminated our water supply?"

"Flank," I confessed promptly.

Kurz scowled. "Okay, so that one was legit. But one more…"

I caught his eye. "I have been successfully ignoring him for the last hour," I told him mildly. "You should do the same."

"It's a nice one, right on his shoulder," Gauron continued cheerfully.

Melissa ground her teeth visibly. "Let's keep on topic. More than one person, and you-"

"Run a greater risk of being noticed," he drawled. "I'm not going to ring the doorbell, Major." Her rank was so insulting to the intellect, coming from him. "A one-man entry is reasonable when it's a three-man team, but you're working with four now, and it's a two-man job."

Her patience was wearing thin. "I'm not saying it's a bad call. It just isn't going to be you."

He blossomed at her challenge. "Hedwig here is the best shot of your threesome, so he can't go."

"Then I'm going," she snapped.

"You're staying with Weber on the perimeter of the complex," he continued, as if she'd never spoken, "because I'm making the rules and there's not a damn thing you can do about it. Better?"

"Bullshit," she bit off. "I don't take orders from you."

His eyebrows rose. "I was trying to be nice about it, Mel. Guess we can't have nice things here, huh? The ugly fact of it is, the three of you don't stand a chance even without my big fancy Arm Slave to save me. I think it smartest, from a completely logical and informed point of view, that the two who actually enter the facility should be the two most capable soldiers present. You can't afford to do otherwise. From a completely egotistical point of view, you have no choice because I leave you no choice. Fortunately, for once, my choice happens to be the right one. Reconcile your problems with your father-figure elsewhere," he added with a jab that visibly struck home. "I'm running a military operation here. I don't have time for your male-oriented insecurities in my line of work."

Her hand gripped the glass of whiskey before her. "You –"

"Major!" I physically cut between the two of them, blocking each access to the other. "Permission to speak with you in the hall."

She was already on her feet, a hand fisted in her hair. "Go," she allowed, leading me out.

Then, in moderate privacy, "I'm going to kill him, Sousuke, I _swear _I can't keep doing this! I'm not his fucking prisoner," she began, visibly agitating herself. "We have this worked out to a fault, and I'm not going to let his machismo bullshitting – his stupid fucking ego trip – his whatever! – mess with a functional entry and exit plan. Just because he – what the fuck is wrong with me going in with you? I'm the most capable person in –"

"Do you think Sergeant Weber should be left alone with him?" I countered. "Though he most likely has ulterior motives, his suggestion is most appropriate for our situation. For your own safety, neither Weber nor yourself should be left alone in close quarters with him. Whatever the circumstances, he and I have operated together with some efficiency – it's only logical."

"Sousuke," she gritted. "You don't understand what I'm saying. I'm saying, I don't want you two alone together."

My chin rose at the implication. "I have functioned quite acceptably so far, Major."

"Don't Major me," she warned. "It doesn't feel right. I just keep waiting for him to do something…"

"I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself," I told her coolly.

She sighed. "Don't start shutting me out like that, and that's a direct order. I can see walls dropping as we speak. I'm your commanding officer, and I'm trying to keep my team's safety in mind – which is hard right now, because all of my instincts are telling me that we're shooting ourselves in the foot."

I nodded. "I understand. But whatever agreement you come to, I am the only one prepared to deal with him should he turn on us. Should that happen, it's very likely that none of us will stand a chance, but he is my responsibility, and the risk of working with him is mine alone to take."

She looked on the verge of agreeing with me. "So we just sit and take it? Great plan. I've always been fond of verbal harassment." Her smile was bitter. "You'd think I had an abusive father or something."

**0170**

The sound of glass exploding was not unlike a gunshot.

In spite of her noble and grudging decision to try and work through it, Melissa ended up exploding into the woman she had always, and would truly be in all situations, been. In his own way, Gauron had struck gold with Mao and truly enjoyed deconstruction her for us all to see. Within twenty seconds of walking back into the room, a crass side-comment landed him with an equal and opposite reaction.

I didn't see it coming; neither did Kurz. Gauron had only enough time to duck before a half-full highball glass exploded against the wall beside his head, shards of glass, ice, and whiskey flying in all directions. He wiped it away with little damage done – no real scratches, and whiskey sour dripping from his hair and chin. He never blinked.

She turned away immediately, and I could see her own reaction had shaken her. With a shake of her head, she feigned the composure she'd had earlier. "It can be done," she said finally. "_If_ you're telling the truth. The problem is, I have no reason to think you are, and every reason to think you're not."

He shrugged. "This way is more like Russian roulette. I enjoy what little entertainment I glean from life."

Mao turned to me. "Sagara – do you have any objections to this arrangement?"

"I do not, Major," I responded flatly.

She looked at Kurz. "Sergeant?"

"A million," he grumbled. "But I guess it doesn't matter, does it?"

"Nope," she said. "Not in the slightest."

Gauron turned to me, clearly quite pleased with himself. "So now we get to strategy. Any ideas, Kashim?"

I maintained a primarily military outlook on the question. "A few. I assume your knowledge of the complex will allow me to pursue options beyond those as well."

"I have ideas. I could draw you a diagram." Something in that statement drew a slight leer from him, and Kurz turned crimson.

"Jesus," he gritted.

He was ignored. "Walk with me, Kashim. Walk with me, and talk that military jargon that gets my juices flowing so quickly." At two verbalized protests, he grinned a wicked grin and rephrased it. "I strategize better when we bounce ideas back and forth."

I, in turn, ignored his tacky insinuation and kept my mind on Kaname, whose survival was my ultimate assignment. "Agreed." Then, to Kurz and Melissa, "Cooperation is, unfortunately, a consequence of working together."

This did not soothe them as we strode out of the compartment and down the roaring, rocking hallway.


	18. A Boundary Disregarded

AN: For those who worry, I will never abandon this pairing, no matter how much my honey makes fun of me. They evolve as I write them and I simply cannot stop. I feel like Sousuke is a fascinating character.

God, Leonard Cohen makes me want to jump off a bridge. Good thing I found the slash first. For those who might think I robbed them of smut later, my website has the smut I pilfered from here. It's generally the same dynamic between the two.

"**You are the worst thing that's ever happened to me!"  
**~an angry Ray LaMontagne. It's actually 'You are the BEST thing," but I think Sousuke disagrees.

**Chapter 18**

Out from under Kurz's protective anger and Melissa's calculating eyes, I felt again the toll being taken on me. My boring military routine of search-rescue-destroy had been contaminated: whereas I once took comfort from the rigid constraints of a mission, I now felt suffocated, panicky, and paranoid. The rules that had comfortably regulated every move I made were now causing me to look over my shoulder in case I was being watched – though I knew I wasn't.

No one dared look at us, in fact – I sought eye contact with no one, and Gauron so clearly radiated 'alpha male' that no one challenged us with a suspicious look.

I felt worn out, personally. It had always been difficult interacting with Gauron in the first place. And now it looked to my comrades as if I was frolicking off to conspire and take part in some secretive, unprofessional scheme instead of pulling my head out of the sand and figuring out _how _I was going to get Kaname out of harm's way. Again.

It was a strain to keep both my friends at bay and Gauron even further, but as I walked with him I felt as though I'd conceded the fight. His stature was full and possessed of a mighty confidence, and I simply didn't have equal confidence to shield myself with. I also felt suddenly and utterly alone in the world, having failed Chidori and deceived my friends and still gone off with the enemy, the only enemy I ever really had.

"So," he said conversationally. "Are you really planning on talking strategy, or could I sway you otherwise?"

"Strategy," I cut in quickly. "You may have all the time in the world to play with, but I am solely responsible for Chidori's survival and wellbeing, and the more time I waste, the less time I have to ensure that she lives through this."

"You're on a train for another three hours," he reminded me. "I don't think it's going to take that long, but we could try."

"How do we get in?" I said shortly.

"The back door."

"And how do we escape with Chidori?"

His grin spelled impending doom. "That's a surprise."

_!_

"You must be joking," I said finally, after checking to see if he was serious or pulling my leg. Upon deciding that he was serious, I tried again. "How do we escape the complex with Chidori?"

He glanced at me as we strolled through the car. "That was it, Kashim. I have priorities too, you know."

I stopped in my tracks. "I can't enter a hostile situation involving civilians with a decorated terrorist and _not have an escape plan._"

"Just trust me," he dismissed with a wave of his hand. "Let's be constructive, eh?"

"I _can't_," I argued. "I cannot enter a –"

"I heard you the first time," Gauron interrupted. "Are you going to obsess over details? Fine; I'll play. There's actually a tunnel that can be accessed from a drain in the cleansing facility on the detention level, which cuts to a sewer line that we'll enter exactly ten feet beyond their motion-sensor perimeter. Security cameras can only film to the ridge of the hill, and we'll come back out on the other side of that. The waste and disposal monitors have been out of commission since the eighties.

"No one will think to look for us." He said this like it was supposed to reassure me, but while he seemed to speak with total conviction, and while I knew not believe him, I was left with little choice in the matter.

"Why should I believe you?" I challenged.

He shrugged. "Because I know more than you do, Kashim. And, as I've pointed out before, you don't have much of a choice."

"What are estimated civilian casualties?"

"None. Not because the place is deserted, but because there _are _no civilians with MUSE. Every person that works there realizes that by simply coming to work every day, someone out in the world probably has reason to kill them. And given the potentially lucrative research they're doing, to all outward appearances it looks like they're shutting the place down."

"Are they connected with Amalgam?" I wondered aloud.

"Nah, those guys all hate each other. It's like if Mithril asked Amalgam for a cup of sugar – or maybe a rail gun with a 5,000 mile pinpoint accuracy," he said dryly.

"How lucrative is the research?"

Another careless shrug and a long pull from his cigarette. "Depends on your standards. Does turning lead into gold interest you?"

"No."

"See, some people might find that interesting."

"What are they researching?" I repeated.

He grinned. "Oh, Kashim. I don't actually care about that. To be honest, it's stretched me pretty thin to keep tabs on you, maintain a good cover, and keep both discreet. Have I mentioned that you make it difficult to hold a job?"

"At least once," I said stiffly.

"Yeah," he agreed distractedly, "you're definitely something else."

For a solid five minutes after that, he neither answered my question nor spoke again, which had been a trait of his many years ago. He hadn't shut up once since he'd hijacked the plane, but once upon a time he'd been prone to dark silences. They would come quickly and with no real prompting, and he would lapse into silence for untold lengths of time.

His good humor had been snuffed out now; he gave no indication what was in his head, but there was no trace of a smile left on his face. It made him look tired, and perhaps even old. His maniacal cheer and sadistic optimism had kept him ageless for more years than I'd been alive, but for those few minutes (and not again for another many years) they were nowhere to be seen.

It was best to stay quiet and speak only when spoken to, and we made our way in silence to the back of the train, which was open-air and reserved for luggage. It had no roof. It also had no passengers.

It put me at ease to get away from the rest of the train, and even moreso in the voiceless vacuum that the rushing wind provided. While I still heard the clock ticking down in my head, it worked well that Gauron had shut himself off while I sorted out the mechanics of the next day. It had worked for us in the past.

"Kashim," he said after many long minutes.

I glanced over at him. "Are you finished?"

"When this is over," he began, "and all your little duckies have been put back in a row, you know I'm not sticking around."

"I certainly hope not." His tone was peculiar. I made sure to say as little as possible.

"I can't be around you very long, have you noticed that?" he continued. "It makes me feel crazy… well, crazier than normal. Makes me strike bargains, deal with morons, almost get killed by some nobody. Rescue some idiot girl I'd rather put out of my misery."

I watched him pace around like a tiger, stalking each step before he took it, and stayed quiet. It was a wary eye I kept on him as he wound his way over to me.

"Do you know the feeling?" He wasn't asking me to answer; he was just studying me. Darkness seemed to roll off him in waves, and for just a moment I felt like I could see him with a clarity I didn't normally possess. It struck somewhere deep inside of me. But he went on.

"I only get so much time where I don't have to try to kill you, and in that fraction of my life, I become downright stupid. What would you say if we blew this joint?"

I couldn't keep my face blank – I hadn't seen that coming. _"What?"_

"No one would hear even a rumor of us," he was saying in spite of my reaction. "We're the only people in the world who could ever find each other. We would be gone, doesn't matter where. I have money in literally every livable nation in the world. No one could disappear as easily as we could. Our line of work doesn't have a high life-expectancy; we're both the last of our kind."

"I'm positive that I'm not hearing you correctly. What are you _talking _about?" I demanded again.

He shrugged. "I don't know. I like to call it retirement. I think about it sometimes."

It was all I could do just to keep my mouth from obnoxiously falling open in shock. "You realize that would _never_ work. Between Mithril and MUSE alone we'd be – _aah _–"

"See?" he cut in where I faltered. "We. And no, it would never work, that's why I just think."

"Perhaps you should stop doing that," I suggested. "I would prefer if we stuck to the subject of Chidori and the mission."

"You usually prefer that," he sighed. "Which is why we usually don't talk, did you realize that?"

"We don't talk because you're insane," I assured him.

He shook his head. "I just offered you a life on the run, with no need to take jobs for money. Of course you're going to say no, because that's why this works, but do you realize what that's on par with for me?"

"I think you say things without really giving them much thought," I shot back, "because you have no problem saying other – _things – _that I don't particularly need to hear. Especially when I don't need to hear them."

"To no avail," he agreed, that familiar smile finally quirking at his mouth with promises of danger. "You know you're supposed to say it too, don't you?"

My face was hot. "You've done fine for yourself this far."

His eyes locked on mine, burning with the dark fire he robed himself in. "Ah, but we all like to hear the little things, don't we? What could it hurt?"

"Me," I snapped, unusually defensive.

"Just that pride of yours," he grinned, slipping into my personal space unhindered. "I've been patient with your big bravado when your little band of heathens comes around. I've let you convince them of whatever deception you've felt is necessary. But do me a favor and stop pretending like I'm a moron, okay? Right here," he continued, "there's no Mithril, no mission, no superiors, no one to pretend for. There are also no drugs or injuries to hide behind."

He was close to me now, allowing me the heat of his body but barely the touch. My jaw was set so tight my teeth could have shattered, but I let his presence envelope me silently. The smile on his face bode ill for me, or at least for the ground I was trying to maintain.

"I can't," I lied bold-faced. "Not anymore. Things are different now."

"Liar," he said right back with complete confidence. "Of course, I could be wrong. But if I am, then you know you'd better start running."

I did hold my ground that time, although I still have no justification for doing so. I met him halfway, signing myself away to some outpost in Antarctica for the rest of my life, but also to him.

His lips were only soft at first, even as his hands held me tightly. When he read my body language – or my mind – the softness was quickly replaced with the forceful control I sought. As he had always known before, and certainly knew now, his fingers tangled in my hair, then pulled at my clothes, and dragged me breathlessly down with him, down where our breathing and his voice were all I heard.

Kurz was waiting out in the corridor outside our cozy cabin, nursing a new drink between his knees. "Anyone want to fill me in?" he asked, his blue eyes turning from concern to a little sadness as he studied me. "Mao's chomping at the bit for the game plan. I figured she was better off alone, since I'm sick of being hit right now."

I froze, certain that guilt was etched into my face and probably looking all the guiltier for it. Gauron spoke before I did, laughing first and continuing on past the room. "Have fun with that, Kashim. I need a drink and a smoke, personally."

Kurz was now looking sullen and irritated. "I don't like it, man," he said flatly when Gauron was beyond earshot. "I don't know what the hell, and I won't tell Melissa, but… at _least _tell me there's a game plan, so that we can tell her something."

"There's a game plan," I swore, sliding to the ground beside him and getting off my wobbly knees.

"Well, at least it wasn't a total loss," he grumped.

Agreeing wouldn't have helped, so I remained quiet and entangled in my thoughts.

This could only get worse.


	19. Chapter 19

_See, I was hiding around here somewhere! I think we're 3-4 updates away from done, kids. Appreciate those of you who are still around :)_

**Kaname**

I drifted.

After the first two days, I really lost track of time. I'd always time-managed well, and Sousuke had taught me little tricks to keep track of the days - when did they feed me, was it two or three times based on my sleep cycle, did they have a watch, and how I could read the numbers or the hands from any angle - things I railed on him about, but was currently wishing I'd paid attention to.

I slept through one of the food drops and woke up to another one waiting for me, with no idea of how long I'd napped, or if I slept for six hours. That was when I began to lose track of the days.

Then they started putting things in my water.

I'd begun to feel strangely after what I thought might have been the second day, where things in the room began to bend, but how much of that was some kind of drug, or just the monotony of a windowless white room with nothing but the meanest amenities to break up the lines of my space?

I skipped the food for two meals before the hunger got to me. I'd heard you could fast safely if you drank enough water, but I'd never fasted before, and it only made me feel worse. I thought eating again might make it better, but at that I was too saturated. In hindsight, it was already too late.

I started doodling on some loose paper on maybe day three, when I began seeing things before my eyes so vividly that I thought I must have been losing my mind. But they were so clear - sharp, precise, and the more random and symbolic they seemed, the more it seemed like the rest might _make sense_if I could only remember them -

I asked for more paper the next day or so, but for reasons I'm a little too proud to admit, I became afraid to touch anything they brought me to eat or drink. I poured the water down the drain and scraped the food into the toilet. Whether they had a camera on me or not, someone continued to bring me food semi-regularly.

I scribbled. And I drifted some more.

I threw up at one point, and hid under all the pillows and blankets they provided me for hours or days as the fluorescent lights buzzed, and even when I shut my eyes and covered my face, I still saw those things _- symbols, _strange letters, all just one number or doodle away, but _so clear -_

Eventually I shoved all the loose papers under the cot they gave me, too dizzy and nauseated to look at them anymore. I shook and cried in quiet, pitiful little sniffles under my blanket, sweated even though I was cold, and threw up some more from motion sickness even though I wasn't moving.

Until some undetermined time later, when I heard gunshots distantly, down some hallway that led to nowhere.

Gunshots, in a maximum-security facility like I suspected I was in, only meant one thing, and that was trouble. And trouble, no matter where I was, meant -

_Sousuke!_

And then it wasn't cloudy in my head, or slow, or frightened. I was _awake, _because something was coming. I was ready.

I sat patiently on my cot, crappy little slippers on my feet, my modest hospital gown tugged down to cover my knees, my mind surreally cloaked in patient anticipation.

The doorknob jiggled after an eternity, but it was electronically bolted from the outside.

Sousuke had never bothered too long with locks.

True to form, the next thing that hit the doorknob was a bullet.

And Sousuke's face was not on the other side of the door.

The most fabulous thing I could think of to say was "Oh, god_damn _it."

Gauron could not have been pleased to see _me,_ and yet somehow he still looked like the cat that got the cream. "You missed me."

Sousuke, thank God, was right behind him, in the middle of a pissy tirade. "... is NOT the area described on my schematics, I think we're supposed -" He froze when he saw me, his eyes widening. "_Kaname_ -"

I smiled weakly. "You know what, I was kinda hoping you were dumb enough to come get me."

He swallowed. "You - you're - oh, Miss Chidori."

"What?" I sniffled.

"You look like shit," the other man supplied easily.

"Would you _stop it,_" Sousuke snapped.

I didn't mean to - maybe it was stress from kidnapping, drugs, hunger, who knew - but in spite of myself, I started to cry.

Before Sousuke could come to me, Gauron stepped in quickly. "Stand up," he said, his words cold.

I swallowed and did as I was told, sniffling miserably. He snatched my chin up in one hand and studied me clinically. "She's stoned out of her mind," he declared after a moment.

"I am _not_," was my pitiable defense.

Sousuke's long, thoughtful gaze froze me where I stood. "Her pupils are unnaturally dilated for the present environment," he conceded after a moment. "Miss Chidori, have you felt adversely affected since your imprisonment?"

I blinked and swiped at my leaking, treacherous eyes. "Compared to how I might feel if I wasn't doped?" I asked resentfully, fixing the noted sociopath in the room with a scowl. "Or compared to the last time I was _kidnapped_?"

"I only had non-drowsy neurostimulants at my disposal," was the shitty reply.

Sousuke spun on him. "I said _stop,_" he warned, voice low.

A smug grin. "You normally start out that way, yeah. I figured I'd just wait five minutes for you to change your tune."

I gaped. Sousuke didn't even blink, which I suppose was why he was the mercenary and I was the hostage.

"Your suppositions are only as relevant as Miss Chidori's ability to effectively escape," he said coolly. "If you have some previous knowledge of her condition that might benefit us, I am all ears. But if _bullshit _is the only thing you can spew at this moment, then do us the kindness of _shutting up please." _

"Well I don't know, Kashim," he drawled, "but these _are _Nick's friends we're dealing with. Would you like me to start making educated guesses, or would you rather impress me with your ability to connect the dots?"

Sousuke's eyes narrowed. "You're suggesting..."

"Kashim, if you've learned _anything _about me, you know I'm waiting for you to say it."

His eyes flashed angrily, and I smelled the faint burn of an ongoing argument.

..._Actually _smelled it.

"There's still something wrong with me," I announced, in case they were paying attention.

Sousuke was kind enough to spare me a moment in between glaring. "Continue," he said, all bossy-like.

"You two have spent way too much time together," I grumped.

"_Chidori_," he gritted, pained.

"Well I... I was, but am not currently... hallucinating," I admitted, biting down on my lip. "And freaking out. And not eating or drinking , but for awhile I was, and I drew a bunch of stuff and got all paranoid and - Sousuke, I thought _the wall was melting -"_

His mouth was set in a grim line. "I see. And now?"

"I haven't had _anything _in probably a day," I vowed. "I promise, if you mean to bust me out, I'm right behind you. I don't know if it was the food, or the water, or if it was airborne -"

"They haven't made it into any sort of aerosol yet," Gauron supplied helpfully, "but they have it in water, so how far away can they be?"

Sousuke ignored him. "I am not worried about your mobility in an escape," he said gently. "All we have to do is get out of the compound, and then we'll be safe. Weber and Major Mao are waiting for us, and my Arm Slave has been equipped to accommodate a passenger."

I studied him suspiciously, and a few things clicked in my head at once.

They were both limping. And bleeding.

_Badly._

"What did you _do _to yourself?" I wailed.

They let out identical suppressed sighs. "There is not exactly a front door," Sousuke allowed.

"Okay, we're all on the same page. Time to go," Gauron announced. "Before _everyone _shoots at us."

Sousuke took my elbow gently. "Are you up to this?" he asked quietly.

I swallowed, at a loss.

"If you say no," the other man added, "we'll leave you here. I am sick to fucking death of getting shot."

"Is that all?" I said dizzily. "Then yes. No matter what."

"Then _move_," he snapped, "and stay behind Kashim."

I did as I was told, after digging under my mattress and gathering up the stack of papers that had accumulated.

Sousuke frowned. "What in the world is that?"

"I don't know," I admitted. "I just - I mean, they just started piling up, I kept drawing - I thought they might be important."

He rolled them up and shoved them in a pocket. "We'll worry about them later," he promised.

"Don't bleed too profusely on them," was the comment from the peanut gallery.

It was made painfully clear to me that they had not specifically agreed on an exit plan. They were also still in the middle of an argument that I suspected I should not have been privy to.

We crept down an empty corridor, darkened and still as though it had only recently been abandoned. Sousuke grabbed him by the elbow quickly.

"I hear voices," he murmured, dropping his own.

They both fell incredibly still, listening rather than looking.

"It sounds like it's one level up. Ventilation shafts."

"You said personnel was restricted to ground level and above," he hissed. "We are four levels down!"

"Well, we made an entrance," Gauron retorted. "You thought they'd skip the second wave and just let us walk out?"

"I _thought _you said they'd dropped to minimal security!"

"We had _nine hostiles_, and in ten more, I'll start bitching about the difference between minimum security and no security, but until then -"

"Just shut up before they pinpoint our location."

"Have they not done that yet?" was the pissy reply. "Because there's exactly one thing left in this facility to steal, and how long did you think it would take them to do the math?"

I cleared my throat. "Am I interrupting something? I thought we were escaping."

"Can it, Grace Slick," he snapped, as Sousuke was pointlessly whispering "_No_," at the same time, like I'd believe him.

They exchanged a few frustrated shoves - one was just a jostle, which led to a more aggressive push, which was returned, and then Sousuke decided, "We have to get to the surface. _Now_." Like the previous six seconds and the sniping before that had never happened.

We did so, without arguing or discussing logistics. It was interesting to watch them work together, especially having seen them do the exact opposite for so long. Their communication was practically non-verbal, which was obviously for the best. But even their non-verbal communication was limited - if one started to go down a corridor, the other seemed to already be doing the same thing.

At one point we'd ducked into a room, apparently because of some convenient ventilation shaft orsomething, and in the course of three seconds, Sousuke had counted ceiling tiles, made some non-verbal gesture to Gauron, and made some assisted jump up, and then further up, knocking the tile aside with ease and pulling himself the rest of the way.

I was not that graceful.

There was a rumble, like an earthquake, as we pulled ourselves through the floor on the next level and I dusted myself off. They exchanged a quick glance.

"That was the waste line," Sousuke said grimly.

"What waste line?" I asked stupidly.

"The one we were going to escape out of," he explained.

I goggled. "You were going to make me sneak out a _sewage pipe_? Are you serious? That is the most _disgusting -"_

"Actually, there aren't enough people here to need a line that big," Gauron supplied. "It's mostly chemical and radioactive."

"Regardless, we are changing plans," Sousuke assured me.

"We have another plan?" I was ever hopeful.

"We will," Gauron replied over Sousuke's "Yes."

He glanced over sharply. "Oh, we do?" he said with deceptive cool.

Sousuke ignored him, and touched his ear. "Weber," he murmured. "We are at G-721. Make sure to leave us room."

Voices rose up to our right.

Then the left.

"And now we're found," Gauron muttered.


	20. Chapter 20

I've tried to keep a bead on Kaname's random vulgarity, as it is less hers than mine, but she does have some errant thoughts today. Chapter alternately titled "The One Where Sousuke Loses His Shit".

I just realized I've been writing on this for eight years. Jesus.

**0200**

The assumption that all was well and that I was miraculously saved was a stupid one, and I probably should have anticipated its imminent destruction in one of those Whispered moments.

I didn't.

I watched the Escape Plan That Was dissolve like salt in water. It was completely depressing, wholly discouraging, and yet, somehow, completely life-affirming.

"We're going to need a new exit strategy," Gauron said calmly.

"I noticed that," Sousuke gritted, backing us into a small room. "We only have a few minutes to get out."

"_You_ only have a few minutes to get out," was the correction. "I only have a few minutes to grab a couple of things. At the moment. You know how this goes."

Sousuke stared at him. "You what?"

He shrugged. "Ah, you know. I figured, since I was here... I have paying customers, remember."

"You need time to grab a couple of things?" Sousuke repeated, his voice rising at an alarming rate. "And then – what? You expect me to believe you'll simply meet us at some indeterminate location afterward?"

"Kashim," he grinned wryly. "Why would I do that? If I walk out that front door with you, you're just going to slap a pair of handcuffs on me and turn me over like the good boy you are. And if you managed to get me out there, I'd shake your hand and congratulate you for pulling it off. _And_ the cuff thing could be fun, don't get me wrong. We should try it sometime, actually."

"You –"

"No, baby, _you_. You didn't expect anything else from me. Do you really think I'm just going to turn myself in, when I have so much fun un-arrested?"

"I cannot simply let you waltz off," Sousuke gritted. "You know I can't."

"Well, and that's partially because I don't _waltz_. We weren't getting out of here as one big happy family anyway. You need a decoy. I need a few files that may not have been packed up yet. We solve each other's problems."

My silent spell broke.

"You can't!" I yelled, to much shushing. "Don't you get it? If you run, they'll think he let you go – and if they think he let you go, after all your stupid crap – you don't understand! They'll arrest him, or ship him off to Antarctica, or think of something worse –"

"Miss Chidori," Sousuke cut in, his tone gentler than it had been before, "Antarctica is very far down on my list of immediate concerns."

"Well, not mine!" I railed. "And _you_ don't even care enough about him to give a shit, do you? You'll just waltz –" I raised my voice over the impending correction. " – that's right, _waltz off_ and let whatever happens to him happen, all because you don't care, even though you've wasted all this time trying to convince everyone that you _love him_ when you really don't!"

"Kaname –" Sousuke tried.

"No, dammit Sousuke – as freaking messed up as you two are, I almost believed it, because I am stupid, but you are _stupider_ and I hope _you_ –" and here, a violent poke "- get shot looking for your stupid files!"

He was grinning, wide and cannibalistic and probably the origin of children's nightmares. "Y' hear that, Kashim? She's defending your honor. You always did need a brother."

Sousuke punched him.

I sputtered. Gauron rubbed his jaw, still smiling wryly. "I probably deserved that. Definitely."

"Get out," he said coldly. "Go wherever it is you have to go - I _will _do the same. Arbalest is twenty meters away from our exit. In seven minutes, I am incinerating this complex up whether you are still in it or not. I will not wait for you."

He laughed. "You plan on nuking this place? With all the stuff they keep in here? Christ. It'll burn for a week."

"I hope so. Whether you're inside or not."

"I do love a man who's good with his explosives," he admitted.

I could hear Sousuke's teeth grinding. "Get out of here."

Silence hung for a beat. "Antarctica, huh?"

"Probably, yes."

"I'll come for you."

"You stay the hell _away_ from me."

A shrug. "Have to make up for it at some point. I always do."

"I am not there yet." One hand twitched on his gun, waiting for the other man to beat his hasty retreat.

To my abject horror, he paused - like he was afraid Sousuke would turn away, or push for his abandonment more emphatically. "You know I do fucking love you."

Sousuke's face flushed all the way down to his collar. "Yes, I do," he spat.

He seemed satisfied, and slipped to the door. The rustle of fabric was like thunder in the silence.

Sousuke's hand trembled visibly on his gun. "Gauron –"

The other man spun to face him. "Something else?"

His jaw worked, and whatever he said seemed to die on his tongue. "Nothing. It's – I." His eyes lowered. "It's nothing you don't already know."

Retreat: abandoned.

"That's good enough for me," he rumbled. I guess it's an assassin thing to move so fast; he crossed the room in two long strides and grabbed him – scooped, really, swept him into his arms -

"Oh – _God_, you guys!" I wailed, hands covering my face like it might take away the oh my eyes of it all (but I did peek between two fingers after I thought enough time had passed, although I was so wrong and it hadn't).

Sousuke pulled back first, furiously red and breathless. "Go, before I decide to shoot you."

His face was still cradled in those hands, ones that hadn't looked so big until they were clutching Sousuke gently, motherfucking _twilight zone_ today – maybe the drugs? I should be screaming and pouring bleach on my eyes. "I'll find you."

"You're cutting into your seven minutes."

A crooked grin, now. "Yeah. Gotta make it fun, right?"

"I will _shoot you_."

Another hard kiss. "I look forward to it."

And he ran.

Sousuke and I stood in dead silence for almost a minute. "Ready?" I asked him, like I was the one with the plan or something.

He nodded. "Yes. I – Miss Chidori, I…"

"I still hate him," I offered. "I know you can't."

He looked at me helplessly, his dark eyes bottomless and lost in the dim light.

I took his hand. "Let's just get out of here, okay? I know you'll shoot him again or something someday. I want to go home now and buy you a pint of ice cream."

Now confusion. "I do not follow."

"Let's just go now."

We ran, too.

Sousuke fiddled with his earpiece. "Major – _now_. We are exiting the premises, kill the ECS mode and prepare to depart."

Somewhere distantly behind us, there was a flurry of gunfire. I saw Sousuke throw a glance over his shoulder, pause like he should go back and help - I actually saw the urge to run _into_ danger flash across his face.

We came to a pause at a pair of chained double doors, and Sousuke slapped something small and ominous-looking directly on it. "Take cover," he ordered, although he was already pulling me down and away.

A sharp blast, and daylight poured in where the door had been. I jerked away from it, but then he was pulling me into it again, even as I wavered.

And, sure enough, his gigantic AS was waiting patiently, Kurz and Melissa flanking it in their own.

I couldn't run as fast as he could, and stumbled more. He wrapped my arm around his shoulder and half-carried me the twenty meters, which ended up being way farther than it seemed like earlier. And then came the task of _ascending_ his massive freaking AS, which oh my God.

"Can you do it?" he asked urgently. "We only have a few moments before they trace the explosion to us."

I bit my lip, but nodded firmly. "I can do it."

"Climb over the pilot's seat," he instructed, "there will be another compartment behind it where you can passenger comfortably. Make sure to buckle yourself in," he added, "it will ensure a safer experience."

"Are you going to give me a lecture next on how more people die in car crashes than Arm Slave accidents?" I grumbled.

Another blank stare. "Actually, the mortality rate among Arm Slaves operatives is about seventy percent."

"_Jesus holy fuck_, Sagara," Melissa's voice boomed from her machine. "Get her in there safely and let's get out of here, already!"

I couldn't believe how big Melissa's voice was; I also couldn't believe how her wanton vulgarity would be like a life raft to the drowning. I scrambled up the AS, my fingers finding purchase in places that should have been smooth, polished metal, and diving behind the driver's seat like it might take me home right then.

I was glad I settled when I did; I'm fairly sure my body broke promptly thereafter.

"Prepare assault launchers," Sousuke said grimly.

"Shouldn't Mel be telling you what to do?" I suggested meekly.

"I like how she thinks," Mao put in, her voice now filtered through speakers rather than blasted across the sun-baked dirt. "Why are you giving me directions, again?"

"Why aren't we just counting down?" countered Kurz.

The AS jerked, missiles arming themselves and rocking the whole boat in the process.

"Sousuke," I whispered.

"I mean, we have probably two minutes…" Kurz put in delicately. "We can hold off for a minute, if you want to. If you think we should, I mean."

"We're just blowing the shit out of some joint, Weber. Do you want to have some more fucking feelings first?" she demanded. "I can wait. I have all the time in the world."

"Could you pretend for, like, thirty seconds, that you're not dead inside?" he snapped back. "Jesus, have a heart for a minute."

"Oh my God, you're seriously still talking," she sighed noisily. "Should I get out and hold your hand?"

"You," he gritted, "were _obviously _drunk at the sensitivity seminar."

"I wish I was drunk now! I can't believe you're stalling!" Melissa all but shouted. "You think you're protecting Sousuke or something?- because you're not! The _best thing _any of us can do right now is blow that building sky-high, not waffle and emote and _cry _about this! No one wants to say it? Fine. If absolutely no one here will blow that goddamn place up, I will _get out of my AS _and shoot him myself - and yeah, that might be the hundredth time I've said that this week, but I swear to God I'm getting sick of this. Sagara, pull the goddamn trigger."

My stomach fell. Because despite exactly everything on the planet I'd encountered, this felt _wrong_. His hands were shaking around the controls, and _he_ felt wrong.

He wasn't ready. Every other time it had come down to the wire, he'd fired without hesitation, but now he wasn't ready and it wasn't right, but it wasn't his fault that he hesitated now.

"Sousuke –" I tried again.

"Sagara," Melissa cut in. "Are we clear?"

"Yes, Major."

Things got brighter and more explosive after that. As in, the visible skyline went up in flames.

And despite the last year-plus, I leaned over to the cockpit and dropped my voice, in the hope that Melissa and Kurz wouldn't hear me. "Sousuke."

"Miss Chidori," he allowed finally. His knuckles were white on the control board.

"Do you think he was out yet?" I asked softly.

"I hope not," was his savage reply.

I touched his hand gently. "_Sousuke_."

"And if he wasn't," he continued, "I will remedy my fatal mistake."

I squeezed. "We don't have to talk about it yet."

"There is nothing do discuss!" he exploded. "I was – stupid, and _desperate_, and I do not need positive affirmation from –"

"Dude," Kurz's voice crackled.

His fist slammed down on the controls. "I do not want to hear anyone's opinion on anything, _ever_. Not on this. I despise your contrived silences, I despise your delicate maneuvers around it – _all of it_. I do not want to hear his name again, or speak of his crimes, because I am so familiar with both that I – "

"Sagara-" Melissa failed there.

"Major! I have just consigned myself to _Antarctica_, regardless of all efforts to the contrary," he raged, and I couldn't be mad at him.

"Sousuke, you'll have an appeal –" Kurz began.

"Kurz, _shut up_!" His head dropped back and he closed his eyes, jaw working silently until he found words. "You asked me to have a personal life. You used all means necessary to facilitate my integration into normal society to achieve this, and… I'm sorry. This is all I know. And it was always going to end like this. I do not wish to discuss it at this time. At which point I am brought up on charges, I will have to talk about little else."

"Leave him alone," I put in quietly, a sorry attempt at support.

We were all sorry, really.


End file.
